BERT34ND 

140  P.- 
LONG  BEACl 


CASTLE  FOAM; 


OR, 


THE  HEIR  OF  MEERSCHAUM. 


A   RUSSIAN    STORY. 


BY 

H.   W.   FRENCH, 

VUTHOR  OF  "ART  IN  CONNECTICUT,"  ETC. 


BOSTON: 

LEE    AND    SHEPARD,    PUBLISHERS. 

NEW  YORK:  CHARLES  T.  DILLINGHAM. 
l88o. 


COPYRIGHT, 

1879, 

BY    H.  W.   FRENCH. 


All  Rights  Reserved. 


Electrotyped  at  the  Boston  Stereotype  Foundry, 
No.  19  Spring  Lane. 


THE    TRIBUTE 

IS  FAR  TOO  TRIVIAL,  YET  SO  MUCH  AS  FRIENDLY 
CRITICISM  SHALL  FIND    TO  FAVOR  IN 

"CASTLE  FOAM,"  is 


PEDICATED  TO  MY 


2047050 


CONTENTS. 


PART    I. 

CHAPTER  I. 
IN  THE  HEART  OF  HINDOOSTAN, 9 

CHAPTER  II. 
THE  LION  IN  HIS  LAIR, 14 

CHAPTER   III. 
THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SERPENT  ACROSS  THE  TRACK,      .         .         25 

CHAPTER   IV. 
A  LADY  FAIR  TO  SEE.     TAKE  CARE! 31 

CHAPTER  V. 
PRINCE  VICTOR  VON  MEERSCHAUM, 38 

CHAPTER  VI. 
AN  EMERALD  OCEAN, 49 

CHAPTER  VII. 
THE  PEARL  THAT-  LAY  BURIED  THERE, 53 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
A  CLOUD-SHADOW  OVER  THE  OLD  MILL  YONDER,      .         .        65 

CHAPTER   IX. 
A  SUMMER  ENDING  AT  THE  MOUTH  OF  HELL,     ...        83 

CHAPTER   X. 
THE  SERPENT  TEMPTED  ME,  AND  I  DID  EAT,      .         .         .       103 

CHAPTER   XL 
THE  WORLD  SHALL  SEE  A  PRINCESS  OVER  CASTLE  FOAM,       125 

CHAPTER   XII. 
LEAVES  VERSUS  FLOWERS, 134 

CHAPTER   XIII. 
THE  MISSING  LINK, 146 


6  CONTENTS. 

PART    II. 

CHAPTER  I. 
INTRODUCTORY,  *55 

CHAPTER  II. 
AN  ECHO  FROM  DEEP  IN  A  MIRE,  .  .  .  .  158 

CHAPTER  III. 
SHE  WAS  NOT  PERFECT, *74 

CHAPTER  IV. 
"  WELL  DONE  !  " l%9 

CHAPTER  V. 
MY  WIFE, 207 

CHAPTER  VI. 
MY  WIFE— (CONTINUED), 219 

CHAPTER  VII. 
MY  HUSBAND, 228 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
THE  SILVER  CORD  is  LOOSED, 247 

CHAPTER  IX. 
MISUNDERSTOOD, 257 

CHAPTER  X. 
CIRCUMSTANTIAL  EVIDENCE,  263 

CHAPTER  XI. 
HEINRICH  CHARLOVITZ  AND  THE  BOY  VICTOR,  .  .  .  282 

CHAPTER  XII. 
FREEDOM  AND  FETTERS, 292 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
POUR  LES  PAUVRES, 319 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
THE  CLOUDS  LIFT  AS  THE  DAY  DIES,  ....  329 

CHAPTER  XV. 
THE  FULL  SUN  AT  EVENTIDE, 342 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
THE  MILLS  OF  THE  GODS  HAVE  DONE  GRINDING,  .  .  350 

PART    III. 

THE  END, 365 


CASTLE    FOAM, 


PART   I. 

1  For  the  structure  that  we  raise, 
Time  is  with  materials  filled. 
Our  to-days  and  yesterdays 
Are  the  blocks  with  which  we  build." 


CASTLE    FOAM. 

— ate — 

i 

CHAPTER   I. 

IN  THE    HEART   OF   HINDOOSTAN. 

"Who  helpeth  them  to  right  that  suffer  wrong? 
Who  feedeth  the  hungry  ? 
The  Lord  helpeth  them  that  are  fallen. 
As  for  the  way  of  the  ungodly, 
He  turneth  it  upside  down." 

THESE  words  from  the  psalter,  for  the  3Oth  day 
of  the  month,  with  morning  prayer,  were  read  by 
the  captain  to  a  few  of  us  gathered  upon  the  steamer- 
deck,  one  Sunday  morning  not  very  long  ago.  We 
were  thirteen  days  out  from  Suez,  and  that  myste- 
rious coast-line  to  the  north  of  Bombay  clouded  the 
beryl  horizon  like  a  Tyrian  mist  on  the  water.  Des- 
tiny forced  this  formula  upon  my  mind  as  a  sort 
of  text,  and  thereupon  Fate  began  at  once  to  preach 
a  remarkable  sermon. 

How  ominously  some  little  things,  that  are  destined 
by  and  by  to  become  great,  fix  themselves  upon  the 
mind  without  apparent  rhyme  or  reason  !  —  coming 
events  casting  shadows  before !  Almost  uncon- 
sciously, and  half  aloud,  I  was  repeating  the  refrain, 
when  twilight  darkened  about  us,  hiding  the  nearing 
hills.  A  fellow-passenger  sprang  to  a  seat  beside 

9 


IO  CASTLE    FOAM. 

me  on  the  rail,  replying, -"The  Book  says  it;  but  it 
seems  like  mockery,  in  a  land  where  all  the  workers 
of  iniquity  do  flourish." 

It  was  not  till  yesterday,  as  one  might  say,  that  I 
realized  what  force  there  was  for  his  skepticism. 
Yet  that  there  must  have  been  a  cause  was  evident, 
for  he  was  not  that  sort  of  man  to  whom  one  looks 
for  far-fetched  levity,  though  a  genial,  good  fellow 
withal.  It  is  not  often  that  one  meets  a  man  whose 
faults  are  but  dust  on  a  diamond  ;  he,  however,  even 
added  to  so  much  perfection  all  that  could  have  made 
him  more  attractive  —  an  indefinite  mingling  of  mys- 
tery. 

We  were  two  of  a  party  of  five,  all  strangers  to 
the  others  when  we  left  Suez,  bound  northward,  upon 
landing,  to  spend  the  last  month  of  the  warm  season 
upon  the  highland  hunting-grounds.  This  man  was, 
by  us  all,  acknowledged  the  prodigy  of  the  party  —  a 
sort  of  human-deity,  we  almost  thought,  though  even 
his  nationality  was  a  mystery.  But  never  mind  him 
now ;  he  must  disappear  for  a  long  time  to  come. 

Again  those  words  came  back  to  me !  this  time  in 
the  heart  of  Hindoostan.  Almost  in  the  center  of  In- 
dia, quite  in  the  center  religionwise,  there  is  a  city ; 
not  so  much  of  a  city  then  as  now ;  but  more  or  less, 
we  five  were  waiting  there  to  make  ourselves  ready 
for  the  hunt.  The  houses  were  low,  very  low,  and 
not  many  of  them.  The  narrow  streets  were  very 
narrow,  and  there  were  no  wide  ones.  They  started 
with  nothing,  and  wound  away  —  nowhere.  The 
walls  were  of  sun-baked  mud,  primitive  stucco-work, 
brown  as  a  russet  rind  before  the  March  thaw  tints  it 
with  yc-llow.  Copper-skinned  Hindoos  sat  in  the  door- 


IN    THE    HEART    OF    HINDOOSTAN.  II 

ways  —  those  very  low  doorways.  Olive-brown  ba- 
bies were  thick  in  the  narrow  streets ;  and  the  babies 
were  covered  with  flies,  with  no  one  to  brush  them 
off.  There  were  one-and-fifty  mosques  and  temples, 
low  like  the  houses,  with  golden  domes  and  marble 
minarets.  And  there  were  hosts  of  idols  there  —  all 
sorts  and  sizes  of  them  ;  wonderful  gods  in  that  mythic 
triangle  !  And  where  the  city  ended,  upon  its  east- 
ern side,  and  the  limitless  fields  began,  there  stood 
the  dak  bungalow,  the  Anglo-Indian  post-station. 
And  that  was  Allah-Abad,  "City  of  God,"  then  !  at 
the  confluence  of  the  Ganges  and  the  Jumna,  and  that 
mysterious  river  flowing  there  invisibly,  directly  from 
the  throne  of  Brahma.  Since  then  the  English  rail- 
ways have  made  of  it  a  city  of  their  great  god  Com- 
merce ! 

It  was  cool  and  right  comfortable,  lying  upon  a 
bamboo  divan  on  the  broad  veranda  of  that  bunga- 
low, fanned  by  a  free  swinging  punka.  I  had  al- 
most dozed,  or  slept,  for  an  hour,  I  hardly  know, 
when  roused  by  the  tramp  of  horses'  feet.  A  stran- 
ger approached  the  bungalow.  He  was  almost  a 
giant.  He  might  have  been  one  of  the  race  whom 
Frey  saw  from  the  Pisgah  of  Hindoo  mythology. 
He  rode  a  royal  black  Arab,  and  a  servant  followed 
on  one  hardly  less  beautiful.  He  dismounted,  and 
stepped  upon  the  veranda.  His  dress  was  that  of  a 
Hindoo,  and  he  spoke  to  his  servant  as  though  it 
were  his  mother-tongue.  But  there  was  that  contra- 
diction in  his  bearing,  which  was  refined  and  proud, 
that  unmistakably  declared  it  no  more  at  least  than 
foster-mother.  His  hair,  that  fell  beneath  his  turban, 
was  white  as  snow,  and  a  long  white  beard  reached 


12  CASTLE    FOAM. 

almost  to  his  girdle.  Over  his  shoulder  was  thrown 
a  long-barreled  and  highly  ornamented  gun,  and  a 
Damascus  blade  hung  beside  him.  A  dark  and  inde- 
pendent eye,  and  dignified  satisfaction  in  each  mo- 
tion, made  an  object  of  self-assurance  in  the  might 
of  his  own  strength,  sufficient  to  draw  me  instantly 
from  the  drowses  of  dreamland.  I  lay  and  looked 
at  him,  till,  calling  the  keeper  of  the  bungalow,  he 
gave  an  order  that  I  could  not  understand,  and  light- 
ing a  cheroot,  threw  himself  upon  the  divan  opposite. 
Then  I  took  refuge  in  that  blandly  confidential  ques- 
tion that  is  repeated  so  many  thousand  times  by  every 
American  tourist,  without  the  slightest  expectation  of 
an  affirmative  reply. 

"  Do  you  speak  English  ?  "  I  asked. 
"  Sometimes,"  said  he,  in  a  clear  Anglo-Saxon  that 
startled  me. 

"You  are  an  Englishman?"  I  went  on,  in  the  ap- 
proved formula. 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  he.  "  It  is  spoken  so  much  in 
India,  of  late,  that  every  bestial  coolie  of  Bengal  has 
more  or  less  idea  of  what  it  is  to  speak  it." 

"French,  or  German?"  I  continued,  according  to 
the  best  and  most  orderly  catechism. 

"  Neither,"  he  replied  in  French  ;  "  but  the  tongue 
of  either  is  better  than  English." 

Dropping  into  a  language  that  pleased  him,  I  asked 
if  the  furnace-heat  of  India  was  never  annoying.  He 
seemed  to  enjoy  it.  In  fact,  he  did  enjoy  it ;  for  he 
almost  smiled  as  he  replied  with  a  vigorous  "  Never  !  " 
and  added : 

"  Twenty  years  ago  they  told  me  that  ten  years  of 
this  would  shrivel  even  Satan  to  a  cinder !  But,  on 


IN    THE    HEART    OF    HINDOOSTAN.  13 

my  oath,  he  has  grown  stronger  with  every  English- 
man arriving." 

He  hated  the  English,  there  was  no  doubt  of  that, 
and  so  did  I.  It  was  a  bond  of  fellowship,  and  soon 
led  to  another.  It  transpired  that  the  stranger  had 
long  hunted  over  the  plains  toward  which  we  were 
slowly  progressing,  and  readily  consented  to  join  our 
party  with  his  invaluable  information.  An  hour  later 
he  set  out  for  Cawnpore,  there  to  secure  our  needful 
accoutrements.  At  sunset  we  followed  him  in  one  of 
the  old-time  Hindoo  carts, — two  wheels,  no  springs, 
no  cushions, — drawn  by  the  sacred  Maltese  bullocks, 
jogging  at  a  slow  dog-trot. 

We  rumbled  and  jolted  over  the  plain.  Far  away 
weird  figures,  like  white  elves  and  genii,  seemed  reel- 
ing about  in  the  moonlight,  in  grotesque  war-dances. 
Now  and  then  the  silver  light  flashed  on  the  broad 
wings  of  a  flamingo,  startled  from  its  midnight  hiding- 
place  among  the  marsh-bogs. 

And  on  the  continuance  of  that  hunting-trip  hangs 
the  tale,  be  it  a  sermon  or  what  not,  dating  backward 
for  its  beginning  something  over  half  a  century,  and 
far  away  from  India,  in  the  new"  capital  of  Russia. 


CASTLE    FOAM. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE   LION   IN   HIS   LAIR. 

IT  was  just  as  dark  a  night  as  one  could  wish  for 
any  kind  of  villainy.  Everything  was  dark  in 
Russia,  and  the  days  of  Paul  the  Reckless  were  num- 
bered. No  one  knew  precisely  what  the  number  was, 
for  as  yet  the  spoken  conspiracies  had  only  singled 
out  the  Lord  Chief  Adjutant,  thinking  that  a  draught 
upon  his  warm  blood  would  act  to  jog  the  elbow  of 
the  Tzar,  and  turn  him  toward  his  duty.  But  they 
were  numbered  nevertheless,  and,  as  every  one 
knows,  the  days  in  Russia,  as  well  as  the  nights, 
were  very  dark,  after  Paul  I.  could  have  counted  his 
remaining  months  of  life  upon  his  fingers.  Many 
superstitious  souls,  as  the  annals  show,  a-ctually  be- 
lieved that  the  sun  became  darkened,  and  that  the 
moon  did  not  give  her  light,  so  dark,  so  very  dark 
was  everything  in  Russia. 

It  was  a  dismal  winter  night,  as  well  as  dark,  and 
the  old  man  with  his  scythe,  and  his  hour-glass 
nearly  spent,  tottered  toward  the  threshold  with 
"1800"  on  his  well-filled  pack.  A  stripling,  noth- 
ing more  or  less,  a  youth  in  the  state  of  adolescence, 
walked  timidly,  yet  rather  boldly  considering  the  oc- 
casion, down  one  of  those  streets  of  St. Petersburg  that 
even  to-day  seem  built  on  purpose  for  conspirators ; 


THE    LION    IN    HIS    LAIR. 


they  are  so  full  of  crooks  and  turns,  with  houses 
standing  boldly  upon  the  street  and  houses  set  far 
back  from  the  pavement,  houses  even  built  across  the 
street,  going  up  on  one  side  and  coming  down  on  the 
other,  and  houses  guarded  by  heavy  and  strong  fences. 
The  corners  seem  too  dark  for  the  lamps  to  light 
them,  the  windings  too  intricate  for  eyes  to  watch 
them.  They  were  very  carefully  watched,  neverthe- 
less, by  a  wonderfully  organized  army  of  men  whom 
no  one  knew  but  their  officers,  who  never  knew  each 
other,  and  rarely  knew  their  officers,  and  who  were 
themselves  as  much  in  danger  of  shipment  to  Siberia 
as  any  they  were  watching,  being  themselves  kept 
carefully  under  guard.  All  of  this,  and  much  more, 
to  preserve  the  life  and  position  of  one  man,  and  that 
man  an  inordinate  fool  ! 

The  young  man,  referred  to  above,  had  not  an  idea 
as  to  where  he  was  going,  except  that  by  following 
certain  specific  directions  he  would  find  a  friend  of 
whose  assistance  he  stood  much  in  need.  There  was 
no  cause  for  him  to  suspect  or  fear  that  he  trod  on 
treacherous  ground,  for  many  of  the  nobility  lived  on 
that  same  street,  and  the  guilty  and  innocent  alike 
guarded  their  homes  in  those  dark  days,  till  few 
went  or  came  anywhere  in  St.  Petersburg  after  dark, 
and  off  the  main  thoroughfares,  who  did  not  do  it  by 
the  interchange  of  signs  and  passwords.. 

Reaching  a  certain  point,  the  youth  stopped  sud- 
denly, and  listened.  All  was  still.  He  crossed  the 
street  and  listened.  He  walked  slowly  until  he  came 
to  a  place  where  three  gates  met  upon  the  street, 
opening  into  paths  leading  toward  mansions  that 
seemed  widely  separated.  Again  he  was  silent. 


CASTLE    FOAM. 


Then  placing  his  hand  on  the  latch,  he  rapped  with 
his  heel  upon  a  rough  slab  in  the  pavement,  but 
only  once.  Suddenly,  as  he  expected,  the  latch 
dropped,  the  gate  opened,  and  he  entered.  It 
swung  together,  and  closed  behind  him  with  a  sug- 
gestive click.  He  followed  the  path  more  by  the 
sense  of  feeling  than  by  sight,  through  a  dark,  cold 
garden,  where  the  pines  snapped  and  the  wind 
sighed,  and  nothing  but  shadows  were  visible. 

While  he  slowly  advances,  shivering,  down  the 
path,  we  may  do  well  to  look  at  him.  He  is  eigh- 
teen, no  more  than  that,  straight,  tall,  and  strong. 
He  is  a  soldier,  and  has  just  returned  from  the  cam- 
paign of  the  Allies  against  the  French  republic. 
Naturally  he  seeks  promotion.  He  comes  to  meet  an 
influential  general,  under  whom  he  has  served,  who 
has  promised  him  a  guaranty  and  recommendation  to 
present  to  the  council.  How  he  has  dreamed  of,  and 
longed  for,  and  fought  for,  and  waited,  anxiously 
waited  for  that  promotion,  only  a  soldier  can  appre- 
ciate. Now  it  is  just  before  him  —  if  he  can  find  the 
way.  It  seemed  a  little  doubtful  for  a  time,  but  sud- 
denly that  peculiar  impression  of  the  atmosphere  that 
gives  the  blind  a  sensation  as  true  as  sight,  forced  his 
eyes  from  the  path  he  had  been  following,  and  he 
found  himself  almost  at  odds  with  the  gloomy  wall  of 
one  of  the  mansions.  He  felt  with  his  hand  to  see  if  he 
had  kept  the  path  :  it  was  still  beneath  his  feet.  He  felt 
of  the  wall  before  him.  Unmistakably  the  path  ended 
there.  But  where  was  the  door?  There  was  no  sign 
of  it.  It  was  not  impossible,  however,  that  he  might 
still  be  right.  He  gave  the  signal,  and  was  scarcely 
surprised  when,  an  instant  later,  a  faint  glimmer  of 


THE    LION    IN    HIS    LAIR.  1 7 

light  shone  through  a  small,  round  hole,  a  little  to  one 
side  of  him.  Nevertheless,  in  the  momentary  embar- 
rassment he  had  almost  put  his  mouth  to  the  hole, 
and  inquired,  "Is  the  Count  von  Kramareff within ?" 
when  he  recalled  the  fact  that  here  he  was  to  present 
his  own  card  with  the  card  of  the  man  who  had  in- 
vited him,  concealed  in  his  handkerchief.  They  were 
all  ready,  and  went  through  the  little  hole  an  instant 
later.  A  clammy,  cold  hand  touched  the  warm 
fingers  of  the  young  soldier,  and  caused  him  to  start 
with  fear. 

Then  the  hole  closed  up  again,  and  an  uncertain 
sound  seemed  to  indicate  that  a  door  was  opening. 
He  put  out  his  hand  again.  There  was  nothing 
whatever  there  this  time.  He  attempted  to  speak, 
but  the  first  husky  grating  of  his  voice  reminded  him 
that  he  was  not  to  utter  a  sound,  but  simply  to  follow 
where  he  should  be  led.  He  entered.  The  door 
closed  behind  him,  and  was  barred  and  bolted;  how 
and  by  whom,  he  would  have  been  glad  to  know,  for 
he  began  to  recall  the  ugly  ways  in  which  arrests 
were  often  made,  with  no  questions  asked  at  this  end, 
and  Siberia  at  the  other  end.  Beads  of  cold  perspi- 
ration trickled  down  from  under  his  hatband.  It  was 
a  heavy  hat.  He  took  it  off.  The  air  that  struck  his 
forehead  was  damp  and  cold.  There  was  an  evil 
odor  about  him.  He  began  to  tremble  slightly,  and 
to  wish  himself  somewhere  else.  His  first  impulse 
was  to  fly.  Then  his  sleeve  was  pulled  by  some  one. 
Should  he  choke  him,  whoever  he  was?  He  thought 
so,  and  had  almost  made  the  will  a  deed,  when  he 
determined  upon  the  better  part  of  valor,  and  followed 
the  invitation  to  move  on.  The  hall  seemed  inter- 
2 


xg  CASTLE    FOAM. 

minable  as  he  slowly  walked  along  behind  the  faint 
tapping  of  the  feet  of  his  guide  upon  the  floor ;  but 
it  came  to  an  end.  The  footsteps  ceased.  He  stood 
still.  Three  solemn  raps  sounded.  Chilling  and 
blood-curdling  !  It  was  only  an  Open  Sesame  !  Sud- 
denly a  dazzling  light  flashed  through  an  opening 
door.  The  young  soldier  felt  a  strong  arm  behind 
him,  but  he  was  blinded  by  the  light.  The  arm 
forced  him  forward.  The  door  closed  behind  him, 
and  he  heard  the  bolts  swing.  Was  he  a  prisoner? 
It  was  a  gorgeous  dungeon  if  he  were.  The  room 
was  furnished  in  Oriental  magnificence.  Not  a  win- 
dow or  another  door  broke  the  smooth  walls  of  the 
large  salon  ;  but  Moorish  tapestry  and  Turkish  ara- 
besque left  no  room  for  either.  Nor  had  the  soldier 
time  to  wonder  how  the  fresh  air  entered  the  apart- 
ment—  there  was  surely  no  lack  of  it  —  or  what  mys- 
terious problems  there  might  be  behind  those  costly 
hangings.  Lights  flashed  in  each  of  a  line  of  crystal 
chandeliers,  delicately  wrought  by  Persian  work- 
men. A  fire  blazed  on  a  hearth  at  one  end  of  the 
salon,  its  red  glow  creeping  down  the  room  like 
finger-points  of  blood,  touching  the  polished  black 
marble  statues  of  Mors  upon  one  side  the  fireplace, 
and  Pluto  on  the  other,  till  they  seemed  dripping 
with  purple  gore.  Before  the  fire  stood  a  small 
marble  table,  with  paper  and  writing-materials  upon 
it.  Beside  the  table  sat  a  man  upon  a  Turkish  otto- 
man, his  feet  resting  in  deep  indentations  in  an  In- 
dian rug.  His  head  lay  heavily  upon  his  hand,  and 
white  locks  straggled  through  his  fingers.  With  a 
sigh  of  true  relief  the  young  soldier  recognized  the 
influential  general,  the  Count  von  Kramareff. 


THE    LION    IN    HIS    LAIR.  Ip 

Count  von  Kramareff,  too,  was  fresh  from  the  bloody 
fields  of  the  Allies,  where  he  had  shared  the  tent  and 
dangers  of  the  reckless,  merciless  Suwarrow  —  that 
fearful  leader,  who  could  leap  from  his  bed  at  mid- 
night, be  drenched  with  water,  and  ride  naked  through 
his  camp  in  the  dead  of  winter  weather,  and  return  to 
sleep  upon  the  ground,  covered  only  by  a  rough 
horse-blanket.  Directly  after  the  withdrawal  of  the 
Russians  from  the  allied  armies,  while  Suwarrow, 
driven  mad  by  his  defeats,  was  dying  the  slow  death 
that  a  madman  dies,  his  brother  general  had  fallen 
heir  to  the  estates  and  the  title  of  the  Count  von  Kra- 
mareff, and  left  the  army  to  take  a  very  vigorous  part 
in  politics  at  home. 

The  white  head  by  the  fire  was  raised  as  the  door 
closed,  and  the  young  soldier,  bowing  very  low,  said, 
"  I  am  come,  my  lord,  Count  von  Kramareff." 

"  Yes,  yes.  And  you  are  none  too  early,"  said 
the  count,  speaking  rapidly.  "  Stand  here !  We 
have  to  speak  with  you.  A  matter  of  grave  impor- 
tance demands  our  thoughts  to-night." 

The  young  soldier,  blushing  and  bungling  as  he 
went,  made  his  way  to  the  position  indicated,  and 
stood  like  a  picket  on  guard.  The  count  continued : 

"  Have  you  anything  to  show  or  offer  why  I  should 
do  this  thing  for  you  ?  " 

The  soldier  sjtarted,  almost  as  though  he  had  been 
shot. 

"No,  sire,"  he  gasped.  "No,  my  lord,  Count 
von  Kramareff.  I  told  you  I  had  nothing  but  what 
you  see.  But  my  gratitude  shall  seek  to  serve  you, 
sire." 

Then  he  blushed  purple,  and  fingered  the  buttons 


20  CASTLE    FOAM. 

upon  his  coat  as  though  suffocating,  and  longing  for 
a  little  looseness  about  his  throat. 

"You  talk  well,"  said  the  count,  without  looking 
up  again ;  "  we  shall  soon  see  how  much  you  mean 
by  it.  Look  here  !  "  He  laid  his  hand  heavily  upon 
a  sheet  of  paper  upon  which  he  had  been  writing, 
and  his  face  had  a  worn,  weary  look,  in  spite  of  the 
excitement  flashing  in  his  eyes.  "  Your  letter  is 
ready ;  read  it,  and  say  if  you  are  satisfied  ! " 

The  young  man  tried  in  vain  to  read.  His  eyes 
were  too  full  of  lovely  pictures.  The  words  seemed 
unintelligibly  jumbled,  like  soldiers  after  a -battle. 
He  knew  what  the  nature  of  it  all  must  be,  and  feeling 
supremely  grateful  and  happy,  endeavored  in  an  ex- 
traordinarily left-handed  way  to  give  words  to  his 
sentiments  as  he  pretended  to  have  finished  reading 
the  letter,  without  knowing  a  single  sentence  of  what 
it  contained. 

"  Then  I  will  sign  it,"  said  the  count.  He  took  the 
paper,  and  continued  speaking  while  slowly  prepar- 
ing for,  and  writing  his  name.  And  all  the  while 
that  ominous,  gory  gleam  flashed  from  the  shining 
sides  of  Mors  and  Pluto  by  the  fire. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  said  the  count,  "where  Schil- 
ler makes  Gordon  say  to  Butler,  '  Come,  friend,  be 
noble-minded.  Our  own  heart,  and  not  other  men's 
opinions,  forms  our  true  honor'?"  lie  did  not  wait 
to  learn  if  the  soldier  really  remembered  it  or  not, 
but  continued  :  "  You  may  have  heard  that  I  am  of 
the  anti-Olendorff  way  of  thinking  in  Petersburg." 

"No,  sir!  No,  my  lord,  Count  von  Kramareff! " 
the  young  man  shouted  with  as  much  gusto  as  though 
he  had  been  denying  a  murder  charge.  But  the  count 


THE    LION    IN    HIS    LAIR.  21 

did  not  hear  him,  if  one  might  judge  from  the  calm 
way  in  which  he  continued  :  "  We  lay  at  the  door  of 
the  Royal  Adjutant  Lord  Olendorff  these  grind!ng, 
frivolous  laws  that  are  ruining  Russia.  He  turns  our 
sovereign  about  as  the  helmsman  his  ship.  He  — 
Ha  !  I  have  blotted  the  paper  !  But  here  is  a  copy, 
quite  the  same.  I  will  sign  this  one."  He  threw  the 
injured  sheet  upon  the  floor,  carefully  wrote  his 
name,  pushed  it  one  side  to  dry,  and  went  on  with 
his  discourse. 

w  He  is  an  alien !  His  Roman  Catholicism  has 
brought  about  the  friendship  of  the  Tzar  for  France  ! 
In  fact,  it  has  come  to  this,  that  to  drive  him  from  life 
altogether  is  the  only  way  to  free  ourselves  from  his 
tyranny  and  our  country  from  his  curse.  It  is  the 
only  way  to  give  the  bastard  son  of  Catherine  and 
Sottikoff  a  chance  to  show  if  he  can  be  an  emperor ! 
He  has  suppressed  our  schools,  forbidden  the  posses- 
sion of  a  foreign  book,  driven  away  all  foreigners  but 
the  royal  French ;  made  Russia  lie  in  mire  before 
his  throne,  while  he  uses  her  to  clean  his  boots 
upon." 

The  young  man  had  been  wandering  away  to  the 
land  of  gilded  stripes  and  gaudy  epaulets,  and  was 
brought  up  "all  standing,"  as  the  good  country  people 
say,  when  the  count  planted  his  clinched  fist  fiercely 
upon  the  table,  and  exclaimed :  "  The  villain  must 
die  !  He  will  leave  the  council  at  midnight  to-night, 
and  drive  down  the  Prospect  to  his  palace.  Four  men 
are  now  waiting  at  the  eastern  end  of  Admiralty 
Square.  Join  them  and  lead  them  on  to  victory ! 
Here  is  your  letter  !  See,  I  have  signed  it.  Staked 
my  good  name  to  the  Tzar  as  a  surety  of  your  being 


22  CASTLE    FOAM. 

a  good  officer.  In  return  I  ask  your  gratitude  to  act, 
not  for  me,  but  for  your  country."  From  half  a  blow 
at  the  start,  the  old  ex-general's  fury  had  carried 
him  up  to  a  thorough  tornado  at  the  close,  and  now 
his  voice  dropped  nearly  an  octave  as  he  added,  much 
more  deliberately,  "You  understand  me,  and  will 
do  it." 

But  he  was  a  bit  too  confident.  The  thunderbolt 
found  the  young  man  suddenly  transformed  to  a  rock, 
where  a  gentle  "Please,  my  boy,  will  you  do  this  ?" 
would  have  made  him  weak  as  water,  and  blushing 
as  a  rose. 

"  What !  "  he  exclaimed,  when  the  force  in  its  full 
magnitude  became  apparent.  "  Murder  the  adjutant 
in  cold  blood  !  become  a  hired  butcher  !  a  paid  man- 
killer  !  No,  sire  !  No,  my  lord,  Count  von  Kramareff ! 
Not,  were  I  therefor  to  be  the  Royal  Adjutant  in  his 
stead !  " 

"A  soft  answer  turneth  away  wrath  ;"  but  the  count, 
swelling  full  of  authority,  the  ashes  of  age  like  red 
coals  again  upon  his  cheeks,  thundered  in  return, 
"Young  man,  Count  Kramareff  commands  it !" 

The  fire  was  started.  The  wind  but  fanned  the 
flame.  Trembling  with  the  energy  of  the  moment, 
the  youth  replied,  "  And  this  poor  private  soldier  re- 
fuses to  obey ! " 

"  Ha  !  "  roared  the  old  man,  stamping  the  floor  in 
his  fury.  "Then  get  your  promotion  if  you  can,  op- 
posed by  Kramareff;"  and  tearing  the  letter,  he  threw 
it  on  the  floor. 

"I  will, "cried  the  boy  again,  quite  beyond  his  own 
control,  —  "  I  will  save  the  life  of  Olendorff!  " 

"  You'll  die  where  you  are  ! "  shouted  Count  Kra- 


THE    LION    IN    HIS    LAIR.  23 

mareff,  at  a  white  heat ;  and,  grasping  his  sword,  he 
hurled  it  over  his  head  to  strike  the  fatal  blow. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  evil  influence  of  some  furious 
fiend ;  more  likely  the  instinct  of  self-preservation ; 
like  a  flash  of  light  his  dagger-blade  gleamed  in  the 
young  soldier's  hand.  An  instant  —  a  leap —  a  sud- 
den thrust.  The  dagger  was  dripping  and  red.  The 
sword  had  fallen  behind  Count  KramarerT.  The  fire- 
blood  poured  in  torrents  down  the  black  marble  sides 
of  the  Mors  and  the  Pluto.  It  was  only  a  moment,  a 
finger-breadth  of -time,  yet  a  towering  peak  in  the 
mountains  of  life.  From  a  hopeful  and  promising 
youth,  as  the  world  goes,  it  made  of  him  a  cowardly, 
cringing  murderer.  He  was  hurled  over  that  moun- 
tain, dragged  across  that  gulf,  by  the  will  of  an  in- 
exorable destiny.  Could  he  have  prevented  it? 

A  heavy,  lifeless  "thud,"  as  without  a  groan  the 
body  of  the  Count  von  Kramareff  struck  the  floor, 
marked  the  short  interim,  and  all  was  over. 

"What  have  I  done?"  groaned  the  soldier,  burying 
his  face  in  his  hands  and  trembling  like  an  aspen- 
leaf.  "  I  would  not  be  the  hired  assassin  of  my 
country's  foe,  but  am  the  murderer  of  my  own  best 
friend ! " 

Again  self-preservation  took  possession  of  him,  and 
he  began  to  look  about  for  some  means  of  escape. 
He  dared  not  face  the  body  on  the  floor.  He  had 
looked  just  near  enough  to  see  two  horribly  staring 
eyes  fixed  on  him,  and  a  pool  of  blood  collected 
on  the  floor.  He  never  saw  the  face  of  the  Count 
von  Kramareff  again  except  as  a  ghostly  phantom 
haunting  many  an  hour. 

Not  high  nor  low  about  that  room  was  there  a  sign 


24.  CASTLE    FOAM. 

of  anything  less  solid  than  the  walls  of  Cheops  on 
the  Nile.  He  aimlessly  wandered  up  and  down  the 
room,  with  face  averted,  in  a  vain  hope  of  finding 
some  means  of  escape. 

"Great  God!  what  is  that?"  he  gasped,  falling 
heavily  against  the  tapestry,  as  the  first  of  three 
solemn  raps  sounded  upon  the  great  door  through 
which  he  had  entered.  As  his  eye  ran  helplessly 
down  toward  the  great  door,  a  sheet  of  the  tapestry 
intervening  surely  moved  from  some  cause  or  other ; 
it  gave  the  drowning  man  a  straw.  With  the  energy 
of  despair  he  reached  the  spot.  A  secret  door !  half 
open !  The  third  rap  sounded  like  the  click  of  a 
muffled  gunlock.  The  great  door  opened.  Whoever 
entered  found  the  body  of  the  Count  von  Kramareff 
lying  on  his  sword  —  alone  ! 


THE    TRAIL    OF    THE    SERPENT.  25 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SERPENT  ACROSS  THE  TRACK. 

FIVE  years  wended  their  way  off  of  this  little 
world,  with  the  monotony  of  the  seasons,  and 
sunrise  and  sunset,  and  still  the  guilty  or  not  guilty 
soldier  went  in  and  out  of  the  barracks  as  before, 
with  his  head  still  fast  upon  his  shoulders,  only  that 
now  it  rested  between  two  epaulets.  Only  an  ugly 
nightmare  kept  guard  like  a  sentinel  over  him,  and 
from  long  watching  with  its  victim  it  had  grown 
gray  in  the  service  and  even  more  hideous. 

The  Royal  Adjutant  was  attacked  upon  that  eventful 
night,  but  a  screw  was  loose,  for  the  attack  was  unsuc- 
cessful. It  was,  of  course,  upon  the  same  night  that 
the  Count  von  Kramareff  was  carried  to  his  home, 
mortally  wounded.  He  had  just  time  to  give  his 
blessing  to  his  only  child,  a  baby  girl,  when  the  old 
man  with  the  hour-glass  called  for  him,  and  counted 
one  more  in  his  harvest  that  was  so  nearly  garnered. 

Both  of  these  events  were  tolerably  startling,  and 
each  traveled  about  the  capital  as  fast  as  the  other. 
In  fact,  they  went  hand-in-hand  from  mouth  to  mouth, 
and  the  most  natural  result  in  the  world  was,  that 
every  one  believed,  or  appeared  to  believe,  that  Count 
von  Kramareff  had  himself  attempted  the  assassina- 
tion and  had  been  killed  by  Lord  Olendorff.  Those 


26  CASTLE    FOAM. 

who  knew  better  dared  not  deny  it.  Those  who  did 
not  know,  did  not,  for  mercy's  sake,  dare  to  lift  the 
mysterious  veil ;  and  there  the  whole  matter  dropped. 

The  epaulets,  too,  were  a  mystery  to  the  young 
soldier.  Instead  of  being  beheaded,  or  exiled  to  Si- 
beria, he  had  been  promoted,  step  by  step,  in  marvel- 
ously  quick  succession.  The  assassination  of  the 
Tzar  himself,  which  occurred  on  the  night  of  the 
23d  of  March  following  the  murder,  had  given 
him  an  opportunity  to  hold  a  ready  sword,  which 
had  been  referred  to  at  each  promotion,  as  though  it 
had  been  something  much  greater  than  it  really  was. 
Still  he  was  forever  looking  for  the  block  upon  which 
he  was  to  stumble. 

Under  Paul's  eldest  son,  Alexander,  Russia  through- 
out saw  better  times.  Among  other  reliefs,  the  offi- 
cers were  allowed  to  attend  late  dinners,  which  free- 
dom they  indulged  in  to  a  degree  that  seemed  likely 
to  make  up  for  any  past  neglect.  The  murderer  of  the 
Count  von  KramarefF —  he  called  himself,  to  himself, 
even  in  his  sleep,  a  murderer  —  had  returned  to  his 
room  late  one  night  from  one  of  these  dinners.  His 
servant  brought  in  a  card,  informing  him  that  the 
gentleman  had  been  waiting  three  hours  and  wanted 
to  speak  with  him. 

"It  is  late,"  said  the  officer  gruffly,  vainly  en- 
deavoring to  recall  the  owner  of  the  name  on  the 
card,  and  trembling  withal,  as  it  had  become  his 
second  nature  to  tremble  at  everything  at  all  out  of 
the  common  course.  "I  am  tired,"  he  continued. 
"  See  what  he  wants  to  say,  and  bring  me  word. 
Now  go ! " 

The   servant   had   no   more   than  turned  to  obey, 


THE    TRAIL    OF    THE    SERPENT.  2>J 

when  the  man  himself  appeared.  He  was  a  small, 
well-favored,  smiling  and  bowing  specimen  of  hu- 
manity, nothing  at  all  to  tremble  before,  and  his 
apology  was  simple  enough. 

"  The  servant  did  not  —  er  —  did  not  deliver  the 
message  as  a  well-regulated  servant  should.  I  —  er 
—  I  feared  he  would  not,  so  I  came  myself;  for  I 
said  that  I  would  see  the  officer,  not  speak." 

"Possible!"  said  the  soldier,  with  a  little  of  scorn 
that  he  was  sorry  for  afterward.  "  I  do  not  remem- 
ber to  have  met  —  " 

"Do  not  mention  it,"  interrupted  the  stranger. 
"You  do  not  recognize  me  —  do  not  recognize.  In 
fact,  I  did  not  suppose  you  would ; "  and  he  hung  his 
hands  by  his  thumbs  in  the  pockets  of  his  pantaloons, 
and  his  head  well  upon  one  side,  and  his  eyes  half 
closed  themselves.  It  was  a  queer,  indefinable  ex- 
pression that  would  seem  to  indicate  that  he  knew 
something  worth  knowing,  or  meant  more  than  he 
said,  or  was  withal  more  of  a  man  or  more  of  a  fool 
than  one  took  him  to  be. 

The  soldier  was  at  a  loss  whether  to  tremble  or  be 
angry,  but  adding  a  little  of  both  to  his  reply,  he 
said,  "  A  fool  to  wait  for  three  hours  to  see  a  man 
you  never  met.  What  is  your  business?" 

"H'm,"  observed  the  stranger.  "So  I've  offendfcd 
you  already.  Who  said  I'd  never  met  you?  Who 
did,  lied.  I  have  met  you  often,  and  know  you  well ; 
and  knowing  you,  know  you  have  something  to  be 
thankful  to  me  for." 

There  was  little  time  for  the  soldier  to  reflect  upon 
the  situation.  He  must  evidently  either  be  horribly 
frightened  or  thoroughly  angry  with  this  man.  He 


28  CASTLE    FOAM. 

chose  the  latter  for  outward  appearance,  but  a  guilty 
conscience  planted  the  former  in  his  heart. 

"I  thankful !  and  to  you  !  "  he  exclaimed,  throwing 
his  cap  impatiently  into  the  corner.  "Well,  come; 
here  is  a  rouble  and  my  thanks,  and  there  the  door. 
Now  go  1 " 

"  I  will  go  in  two  minutes"  the  stranger  said,  hold- 
ing up  two  fingers  emphatically.  "  I  will  go  to  the 
door,  and  you  will  call  me  back  again."  He  leaned 
over  the  table,  eying  the  young  officer.  "The  night 
was  dark.  The  hall  was  black  ;  but  when  (he  rapped 
three  times  on  the  table)  sounded,  the  door  opened 
into  a  room  that  was  dazzlingly  bright."  He  waited 
a  moment,  like  a  cat  watching  a  mouse  she  has  bitten 
and  thrown  away  ;  then,  blandly  smiling,  said,  "  My 
two  minutes  are  expended,  and  I  go,"  and  turned 
toward  the  door. 

There  was  all  the  tragedy  he  could  have  desired 
in  the  effect  of  his  little  drama.  The  officer  was 
wilted  like  a  flower  in  a  furnace,  and  had  almost  let 
the  stranger  go,  when,  summoning  a  little  breath,  he 
called  after  him  :  "  Stay,  sir,  stay !  How  did  you 
know?" 

The  little  man  turned  back  again,  as  smiling  and 
bowing  as  when  he  first  entered,  observing,  "I 
thought  you  would."  He  seated  himself  again  and 
went  on  :  "I  led  you  in.  I  let  you  out.  You  thought 
you  got  out  by  yourself;  but  it  would  have  been  im- 
possible had  I  not  unbolted  the  door  at  the  end  of  the 
secret  passage  before  you  reached  it,  and  unlocked 
the  gate  before  you  found  it." 

"  Thanks,"  muttered  the  officer.  His  voice  was 
spiced,  however,  with  much  more  of  irony  than  grat- 
itude. 


THE    TRAIL,    OF    THE    SERPENT.  29 

"Never  mind,"  replied  the  little  man.  "It  was — er 
—  yes,  something  else  that  I  referred  to." 

"What?"  The  hot-blooded  young  officer  was 
wonderfully  subdued  at  last. 

"  H'm.  I'll  tell  you.  I  found  the  paper  there,  torn 
up  and  wet  with  blood,  that  made  all  the  trouble.  I 
found  another  quite  the  same,  with  only  a  blot  of 
ink.  I  said  to  myself,  '  One  good  turn  will  have  an- 
other,' and  sent  it  to  the  council.  You  were  pro- 
moted ;  and  all  that  you  are  at  this  moment,  more 
than  a  mass  of  bones  in  the  criminals'  acre,  or  a 
frozen  ghost  in  Siberia,  you  owe  to  me,  —  yes." 

This  was  a  lie.  But  the  young  soldier,  with  child- 
like credulity,  replied,  "Sir,  you  astound  me  !  " 

"Very  like  I  do,"  responded  the  other,  carelessly. 
"And  now  if  you  think  me  worthy  anything  more 
than  a  rouble  and  a  door,  I  am  ready  for  my  reward." 

"  Sir,  you  are  welcome.     Ask  what  you  will." 

The  little  man  leaned  over  the  table  and  said  Si 
few  words  in  a  low  tone.  The  soldier  started  back. 

"  Would  you  drive  me  to  a  new  murder  to  cover  up 
the  last?" 

"H'm.  Your  mind  runs  to  murders,"  said  the 
stranger.  "  Over  the  door  below  I  saw,  as  I  entered, 
that  —  er —  true  victors  conquer  with  the  —  er — the  — 
er — what  is  it?" 

"'True  victors  conquer  with  the  brain,  not  sword  !'" 

"  Exactly  so,  sir  ;  exactly  so.  And  now  you  begin 
to  comprehend  me,  sir  —  begin  to  comprehend." 

He  leaned  over  the  table  again  and  talked  rapidly 
for  a  moment,  then  rising,  said  slowly  : 

"  I  think  we  understand  each  other  now.  I  ask  the 
favor  in  return  for  favors  given.  But,  by  the  gods  I  if 


OQ  CASTLE    FOAM. 

you  betray  me,  I'll  come  like  a  torch  at  midnight,  and 
write  your  secret  with  fire  in  the  heavens,  where  all 
the  world  can  see."  Then  he  closed  the  door  behind 
him,  leaving  the  soldier  with  nothing  to  do  but  to 
obey;  while  he  restlessly  walked  and  walked  the 
streets  of  the  capital,  surely  not  so  well  satisfied  as 
might  have  been  supposed. 

He  paused  for  a  moment  before  the  statue  of  Peter 
the  Great,  at  the  eastern  end  of  Admiralty  Square, 
poised  on  the  great  ragged  memorial  pedestal. 

He  raised  his  hand,  and  was  about  to  swear  by  the 
gray-blue  mass,  —  gray-blue  in  the  dawning,  —  when 
one  of  those  heavy-armed  Russian  home  soldiers, 
that  stood  like  bristling  thorns  over  St.  Petersburg, 
gave  that  warning  word,  "  Move  on  !  "  and  withdraw- 
ing his  arm,  he  moved  on,  hanging  his  hands  by  his 
thumbs  in  the  pockets  of  his  pantaloons,  and  his  head 
well  upon  one  side,  while  his  eyes  half  closed  them- 
selves. As  he  moved,  he  muttered,  "Yes,  yes;  it  is 
the  blind  horse  that  minds  the  bit,  because  he  must." 

Following  upon  this,  there  was  little  of  interest  for 
several  years.  Alexander  gave  freedom  within,  and 
made  wars  without,  and  so  kept  peace.  In  1806  and 
1807  he  marched  his  armies  unsuccessfully  against 
the  French,  and  in  1814  successfully  into  Paris,  fol- 
lowing the  famous  retreat  from  Moscow,  and  again 
at  Waterloo. 

In  such  seasons  of  public  excitement,  private  ex- 
istence is  submerged  ;  but  there  came  a  lull  for  some 
years  before  the  quiet  death  of  Alexander  in  1825, 
and  in  that  lull,  private  life  burst  into  a  luxuriant 
bloom  again. 


A    LADY    FAIR    TO    SEE.  31 


CHAPTER    IV.  * 

A  LADY  FAIR  TO   SEE.     TAKE   CARE!     • 

EIGHTEEN  hundred  and  twenty-one  !  For  twen- 
ty years  the  mansion  of  the  Kramareffs  has 
lain  in  mourning.  The  little  girl  is  upon  the  very 
verge  of  being  a  woman,  and  is  very  beautiful.  Few 
know  it,  however,  for  a  gloom  hangs  over  the  man- 
sion, and  its  mistresses  never  go  out  of  it  except  to 
drive.  Suddenly  the  house  appears  in  an  uproar. 
The  sound  of  the  hammer,  the  voices  of  workmen, 
the  odors  of  fresh  oil  and  varnish,  all  testify  that 
something  new  is  taking  place  in  the  somber,  silent 
halls. 

How  it  all  happened,  Elise,  the  life-nurse  of  the 
countess's  daughter,  knew,  and  reported  in  the  ser- 
vants' hall.  She  was  the  one  who  held  the  child  to 
receive  the  blessing  of  the  dying  count,  twenty  years 
before.  Who  had  a  better  right  to  know  the  secrets 
of  the  countess's  daughter  than  the  old  nurse  Elise? 
She  was  in  her  lady's  dressing-room.  Perhaps  her 
lady  did  not  know  it.  The  countess  and  her  daugh- 
ter were  in  the  next  room,  talking  eagerly  together, 
and  the  door  was  open  between  them  just  a  crack. 
It  might  have  been  closed,  had  not  the  wind  blown  it, 
or  Elise  pushed  it.  And  there  she  stood  and  listened. 
Was  it  wrong? 


32  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"  Fie  !  on  such  plebeian  nonsense  !  "  said  the  state- 
ly, white-haired  personage  bearing  the  proud  name 
of  Von  Kramareff.  And  Elise  wondered  what  the 
plebeian  nonsense  was,  and  so  did  the  rest  of  the  ser- 
vants when  she  told  them.  "  You  will  not  marry  the 
man  I  select ;  you  will  not  choose  from  those  who  ask 
for  you,  good,  bad,  and  indifferent,  I  grant  you  ;  and 
what  then  will  you  do  ?  for  you  must  marry ; "  and 
the  white  head  bobbed  up  and  down  inside,  and 
Elise's  head  bobbed  up  and  down  outside,  as  she 
watched  her  and  echoed,  "  There  's  truth  there,  lady." 
But  the  countess  went  on  :  "You  are  our  only  child, 
and  when  the  noble  count,  your  father,  lay  on  his 
death-couch,  you  were  brought  to  his  pillow."  Here 
the  countess  wiped  the  chronic  tear  from  her  eye  — 
the  left  eye  and  right-hand  corner,  that  by  law  and 
mechanism  had  never  failed  in  twenty  years  to 
moisten  that  expression.  And  here,  with  an  extra 
bob  of  her  head,  Elise  observed,  "There's  truth  in 
that,  lady,  for  I  did  it."  And  the  countess  continued  : 
"  He  gave  you  his  blessing  as  though  you  were  a 
son.  'In  your  veins  alone,  my  little  one,'  said  he, 
'will  flow  the  proud  blood  of  the  Kramareffs.  Honor 
it  as  it  should  be  honored.' "  And  the  countess's  white 
head  and  the  nurse's  began  their  bobbing  again. 

"Yes,  mamma,"  exclaimed  the  young  woman,  sob- 
bing in  a  way  that  was  not  at  all  chronic,  "  and  I  will 
not  dishonor  it  by  marrying  one  of  the  louts  that 
come  bargaining  with  you  for  my  money,  and  with 
not  a  thought  of  me.  'Love  your  wife  like  your 
heart,  beat  her  like  your  shuba,'  is  too  common  now- 
adays. I  do  not  like  it.  I  will  honor  the  man  I  mar- 
ry, or  —  " 


A    LADY    FAIR    TO    SEK.  33 

"Child,  beware  of  oaths!"  exclaimed  the  coun- 
tess, putting  a  stop  to  that  at  once.  And  even  the 
nurse's  head  outside  the  door  had  stopped  its  bobbing 
and  begun  wagging  in  a  warning,  woe-begone  way. 
"  There  are  many  men  in  Russia,"  the  countess  con- 
tinued, "  who  would  not  die  for  wealth." 

"  Hosts  of  them,  mamma ;  but  they  are  the  ones 
that  are  not  ready  to  die  for  me,  either." 

"I  can  call  proud  names,"  said  the  mother,  "I  have 
refused  to  please  your  fastidiousness.  Tell  me,  how 
long  do  you  think  the  offers  will  last?  "  Elise  began 
to  twist  about,  keeping  with  difficulty  one  eye  and  one 
ear  to  the  crack.  She  wanted  to  sneeze,  if  the  truth 
were  told.  But  the  duelists  within  seemed  to  have 
locked  swords,  for  the  countess's  daughter  only  re- 
plied, with  a  little  hysterical  laugh,  "  Longer  than 
necessary.  And  proud  of  what?  their  good  looks, 
or  their  bad  hearts,  I  warrant  you.  No ;  I  will  love 
the  man  I  marry,  and  be  loved  by  him." 

"But  you  are  in  no  position,  child,  to  carry  out  such 
a  doctrine,  pleasant  as  the  words  may  sound  ;  for  love  is 
rare  in  our  society,  except  that  born  of  marriage.  But 
the  house  of  Kramareff  must  have  an  heir  by  you." 

"And  shall  his  father  be  our  cousin,  Major  Wol- 
zonn,  mamma?  No  other  man  has  asked  for  me  who 
could  inspire  my  soul  with  a  first  breath  of  love." 

"Ah,  child,  the  bitterest  of  enemies  are  two  ill-mated 
friends." 

"Well,  who  then  shall  I  marry,  mamma?" 

"  Tell  me,  rather,  who  will  you  marry?  " 

That  was  as  long  as  Elise  could  wait.  She  almost 
flew  from  the  crack  of  the  door,  and  only  half  across 
the  room  sneezed  once,  twice,  three  times,  into  her 
3 


34 


CASTLE    FOAM. 


dress  and  petticoats  folded  four  or  five  double.  It  was 
the  critical  moment.  Elise  would  have  given  half  her 
wardrobe  just  then  for  a  wooden  nose.  Elise's  nose 
was  always  giving  her  trouble  in  that  way.  Excite- 
ment acted  upon  it  like  pungent  snuff.  Poor  Elise  ! 
it  was  the  very  best  feature  in  a  tolerably  homely  face. 
She  hurried  back  to  the  crack  the  moment  her  nose 
had  come  into  position  again  ;  but  the  crisis  was  over  ; 
she  only  heard  the  countess  say  : 

"You  are  aiming  high,  my  daughter.  Beware  that 
you  do  not  miss  the  mark,  and  fall  lower  than  you 
think  for  it." 

The  first  official  announcement  of  anything  out  of 
the  common  course  came  in  the  news  that  the  man- 
sion was  to  go  through  repairs  from  turret  to  founda- 
tion. This  was  followed  by  one  more  startling :  that 
the  repaired  mansion  was  to  be  the  scene  of  a  grand 
old-time  banquet. 

The  countess  said  "  A  ball !  "  with  as  much  solem- 
nity as  she  would  have  said  "A  funeral."  The  count- 
ess's daughter,  in  an  uncertain  sort  of  amazement, 
repeated  the  command  "A  ball!"  The  long-faced 
house-servants,  who,  through  years  of  solemn  train- 
ing, had  learned  to  tread  the  halls  on  tiptoe,  speak  in 
a  whisper,  and  never  smile  outside  their  own  domain, 
stupidly  stared  and  said,  "A  ball!"  The  gloomy 
walls,  that  for  years  had  echoed  to  every  sound  noth- 
ing but  "  dead  !  "  now  hoarsely  grated  to  "  A  ball !  " 
The  crape  that  hung  about  a  large  oil-painting  of  the 
count  in  the  main  hall  seemed  to  shiver,  as  though 
one  everlasting  chill  were  creeping  round  and  round 
the  frame,  and  in  its  shivering  to  say,  "A  ball?" 

Throughout   the    capital   there  was  more  or   less 


A    LADY    FAIR    TO    SEE.  35 

wonder  and  speculation  as  to  what  had  caused,  and 
what  would  result  from  this  coming-out  of  the  Kra- 
marefFs.  Many  halfway  friends  took  it  upon  them- 
selves to  become  interested. 

As  for  this  daughter,  whom  the  count  had  left  to 
honor  his  name  and  house,  and  who  found  so  much 
vexation  in  the  course  of  it,  much  might  be  said  or 
little.  She  possessed  her  mother's  queenly  bearing 
in  beautiful  simplicity.  Unlike  most  Russian  ladies, 
she  was  an  exquisite  blonde.  Her  hair,  in  waving 
masses,  was  like  the  purest  sunlight;  her  cheeks 
were  transparent,  just  tinged  with  the  rose-flush  of 
life's  early  summer-time;  her  eyes  alone  were  dark, 
and  such  eyes  as  could  burn  and  wither  what  they 
chose  —  they  were  her  father's  eyes.  But  for  the  al- 
most impenetrable  seclusion  to  which  she  had  easily 
accustomed  herself,  knowing  no  other  life,  she  must 
long  ago  have  been  able  to  choose,  from  a  multitude, 
one  whom  she  might  love  and  by  whom  be  loved, 
and  the  part  which  she  played  afterward  have  been 
taken  by  some  other,  or  not  have  been  played  at  all, 
which  might  have  been  far  better  —  might  have  been 
worse. 

Such,  at  least,  so  far  as  concerns  this  story,  was 
the  Countess  von  KramarefFs  daughter.  What  her 
hopes  and  expectations,  founded  in  the  coming  ball, 
might  be,  no  soul  beside  her  mother  knew.  Possibly 
nurse  Elise  had  noticed  a  sudden  change  in  her 
charge,  when  a  note  was  .presented  from  the  private 
secretary  of  the  Prince  von  Meerschaum,  regretting 
that  an  early  trip  to  Poland  rendered  the  attendance 
of  his  Highness  impossible. 

The  banquet  went  on   for  all  that,  however,   and 


36  CASTLE    FOAM. 

was  pronounced  by  all  a  grand  success.  Even 
Arachne,  before  Minerva  made  a  spider  of  her,  could 
not  have  woven  a  robe  that  would  have  made  the 
daughter  more  beautiful ;  nor  could  a  mask  from  Vul- 
can's forge  have  concealed  more  thoroughly  than  did 
a  dazzling  smile,  any  random  regrets  that  were  cut- 
ting and  piercing  the  heart. 

At  first,  simply  to  carry  out  some  vague  revenge 
which  she  had  planned,  yet  hardly  anything  pro- 
found enough  to  be  called  revenge,  she  petted  the 
smiles  and  encouraged  the  lavish  attention  of  an  ex- 
quisite stranger.  He  had  been  introduced  by  a  high 
government  official.  "  It  is  all  for  a  jest,"  she  said  to 
herself.  But  this  was  the  first  she  had  seen  of  the 
world ;  and  it  was  far  easier  than  she  thought  to  go 
from  jest  to  earnest,  as  one  might  say,  in  such  a 
thing  as  that.  "And  really,"  she  said  again,  "he 
must  be  one  of  the  most  brilliant,  gentle,  bold,  and 
loving  men  to  be  found  in  the  wide  world.  HE  could 
not  be  more  so,  and  yet  —  "  She  checked  herself 
there,  for  after  all,  when  she  thought  of  "HIM,"  there 
was  a  twinge  of  anger,  born  of  love,  that  caused  her 
to  wonder  if  after  all  "  he  "  might  not  be  something 
even  more. 

So  much  for  the  random  considerations  of  a  young 
woman,  over-young,  though  two-and-twenty,  in  com- 
paring the  first  man  she  had  ever  spoken  with, 
except  as  her  mother  sat  by  her  side  in  a  parlor  or 
coach,  with  another  man,  whose  voice  she  had  never 
heard,  and  whom  she  had  never  seen  but  as  he  rode 
of  an  afternoon  on  the  popular  Prospect. 

Albrecht  von  Bremen  was  this  exquisite  little  stran- 
ger's name  ;  a  sort  of  mortal  Vulcan  he.  My  lady's 


A    LADY    FAIR    TO    SEE.  37 

first  conclusion  was  not  very  far  from  right.  He  was 
from  Denmark.  His  tongue  was  his  sledge,  his  lips 
his  forge.  Twenty-six  letters  the  metal  that  he  used, 
and  in  the  use  of  it  he  wrought  some  very  remark- 
able things.  His  figure,  though  small,  was  powerful 
and  graceful.  He  had  thick,  curling  hair,  dark, 
drooping,  somewhat  uncertain  and  treacherous  eyes, 
a  waving  moustache,  white  hands,  and  round,  dim- 
pled fingers  that  might  have  belonged  to  a  cherub, 
and  might,  after  all,  have  paddled  in  many  a  muddy 
stream.  She  crossed  swords  with  him,  leaving  her- 
self unguarded,  and  at  the  very  outset  the  world  of 
freedom  and  romance  proved  too  much  for  her.  She 
had  even  told  him  that  they  should  spend  much  of  the 
summer  at  Geneva,  and  had  smiled  when  he  replied 
that  he  should  be  there  too.  Yet  the  Dane  was  for- 
ever becoming  a  Russian,  and  doubling  or  trebling 
in  size  ;  and  from  one  to  the  other  her  thoughts  would 
vacillate  till  she  seemed  to  love  both  and  neither ; 
then  one,  and  then  the  other ;  and  ended  by  wonder- 
ing what  love  was,  and  if  anybody  loved,  and  how 
they  loved  and  for  how  long.  There  were  many  les- 
sons she  had  yet  to  learn.  Life  is  a  thorough  school- 
master, and  teaches  much  before  he  has  done  with  his 
task;  the  truth,  for  instance,  of  the  old  Spanish  prov- 
erb, afterward  adopted  by  Shakspeare,  that  "all  that 
glitters  is  not  gold  ;  "  that  man  must  be  taken  one  half 
the  time,  at  least,  to  mean  what  he  does  not  say,  and 
that  too  often  — 

"Love  'mid  names  of  noble  worth 
Is  but  a  noble  myth, 
That  lives  and  dies  on  futile  hopes 
And  fertile  disappointments." 


CASTLE    FOAM. 


CHAPTER   V. 

PRINCE   VICTOR  VON   MEERSCHAUM. 

THE  trip  to  Poland  upon  which  the  Prince  von 
Meerschaum  had  excused  himself,  was  not  alto- 
gether a  myth,  nor  altogether  true.  He  was  one  of 
those  men  who  for  personal  worth,  landed  estates,  and 
sounding  title  was  courted,  and  nattered,  and  petted, 
till  even  the  sight  of  a  mortal  betokened  an  insipid 
admirer,  and  consequently  became  a  burden. 

Long  ago,  in  the  early  days  of  Peter  the  Great, 
when  incognito  he  was  playing  the  blacksmith,  the 
ship-builder,  the  house-carpenter,  &c.,  in  Austria  and 
Germany,  he  became  intensely  pleased  with  a  noble- 
man's son,  of  high  rank  but  very  poor  of  purse,  and 
offered  to  make  him  rich  if  he  would  come  to  Russia. 
This  youth  was  Victor  Reppoun.  He  followed  Peter 
the  Great,  and  married  a  princess  of  the  blood.  Peter 
allowed  him  to  retain  his  Christian  name  if  he  should 
choose  another  for  the  princedom,  and  after  adding 
to  the  wealth  of  the  princess  as  a  marriage  gift  a 
fabulous  sum,  he  made  the  princedom  perpetual  to 
the  heirs  of  Victor  Reppoun,  under  the  title  of  the 
"Prince  von  Meerschaum."  Various  good  services 
rendered  by  descendants  to  later  Tzars  upon  the 
throne,  had  been  rewarded  by  princely  donations  in 
the  shape  of  estates  and  gold,  till  the  wealth  of  the 


PRINCE    VICTOR    VON    MEERSCHAUM.  39 

present  owner,  who  also  possessed  the  Christian 
name  of  the  first  prince,  Victor  Reppoun,  was  une- 
qualed  in  all  Russia,  excepting  only  by  the  crown 
and  crown  royalty. 

By  some  peculiar  fortune  or  forethought,  there  had 
also  been  but  one  heir  in  each  generation,  as  the 
years  came  down,  so  that  the  estates  had  been  undi- 
vided, and  the  present  Victor  Reppoun,  a  man  as 
perfect  morally,  intellectually,  and  physically  as  could 
wrell  be,  was  almost  monarch  of  all  he  surveyed.  He 
acknowledged  but  few  friends,  but  these  were  inti- 
mate, warmly  loved,  always  welcome. 

Four  of  these  friends  —  Major  Wolzonn  was  one  of 
them  —  riding  down  the  Gorokhovia,  the  gayest  street 
of  Russia's  gay  capital,  toward  the  Champs-de-Mars, 
one  morning  about  a  week  before  the  Countess  von 
Kramareff's  banquet,  chancing  to  speak  of  the  Prince 
von  Meerschaum,  voted  on  acclamation  to  take  coffee 
with  him  at  his  Castle  Foam.  Constantine  Wolzonn, 
alone  of  the  four,  was  undemonstrative.  He  was 
always  undemonstrative,  for  that  matter.  He  was  a 
strong  and  handsome  officer,  at  least  in  his  uniform 
and  saddle,  wearing  the  heavy  braids  of  the  majority 
on  the  inevitable  square,  high  shoulders  of  the  Rus- 
sian. Thick  but  close-cut  whiskers  and  a  heavy 
moustache  altogether  covered  every  expression  on 
his  face,  except  as  his  eyes,  dark,  deep-set,  and  qui- 
etly active,  disclosed  his  thoughts,  as  they  shielded 
themselves  behind  becoming  glasses. 

Reaching  the  long,  well-paved  ascent,  hardly  a 
hill,  called  Nevskoi  Prospect,  they  put  spurs  to  their 
horses,  and  dashed  off  like  the  morning  wind,  past 
Alexander's  Cathedral  of  Our  Lady  of  Kazan,  and 


4o 


CASTLE    FOAM. 


the  Convent  of  St.  Alexander  Nevskoi,  into  the  free 
country.  They  did  not  draw  the  rein,  but  the  horses 
themselves,  covered  with  foam,  slackened  speed  be- 
side a  portal  where  they  had  often  entered,  just  upon 
the  oval  of  the  hill. 

Within,  the  broad  parks  were  just  starting  into 
green  —  emerald  green. 

"  Here  many  miles  of  fertile  ground 
With  walks  and  trees  were  girded  round; 
And  here  were  gardens,  bright  with  summer  rills, 

Where  blossomed  many  an  incense-bearing  tree; 
And  here  were  forests  ancient  as  the  hills, 

Enfolding  sunny  spots  of  greenery." 

That  description  by  Coleridge  is  too  perfect  to 
venture  another  in  its  place. 

Now  the  riders  were  lost  in  the  deep  shadow  of  a 
pine  grove.  Now  they  rode  on  the  shores  of  a  lake 
wild  as  the  Lago  di  Garda,  and  emerging  again  from 
a  shadow,  they  were  suddenly  brought  face  to  face 
with  the  massive  battlements  of  a  great  white  castle, 
Castle  Foam  !  resti-ng  in  all  its  glory  amid  the  sunny 
greenery.  Whether  it  won  its  name  from  the  view, 
from  its  towers,  of  the  far-off  sea,  or  from  the  white 
sandstone  of  which  those  towers  were  built,  "  Meer- 
schaum "  (sea-foam)  was  the  only  name  they  could 
have  called  it.  From  the  German  blood  in  their  veins 
the  sound  pleased  them  well,  and  they  called  it  "  Meer- 
schaum." Say  the  word  where  you  would,  from  any 
angle  of  the  castle,  and  a  silvern  echo  would  whis- 
per "  sea-foam  "  in  your  ears. 

Brightly  dressed  stable-boys  took  their  horses,  and 
the  riders  entered  the  castle  together. 

Castle  Foam  was  built  in  the  form  of  the  Greek 


PRINCE    VICTOR    VON    MEERSCHAUM.  4! 

cross,  with  two  broad  halls  from  end  to  end,  and  over 
each  of  the  four  great  doors  were  illuminated  windows 
recalling  some  scene  in  Russia's  history.  The  walls 
throughout  the  halls  were  well  covered  with  paint- 
ings. The  master  of  the  house  himself  possessed  a 
rare  ability  in  the  art.  A  few  of  his  own  productions, 
and  the  skillful  arrangement  of  many  others,  bore 
ample  testimony  to  this.  The  floors  were  of  rich 
mosaic  in  all  the  designs  of  Italy,  Egypt,  Greece,  and 
India,  supporting  everywhere  the  most  rare  and  ex- 
quisite bijouterie,  marbles,  and  all  the  choice  miner- 
als, wrought  by  hands  that  had  touched  the  hem  of 
King  Solomon's  purple,  that  had  pushed  the  wheels 
of  Asoka's  chariot,  held  flowing  bowls  at  Nebuchad- 
nezzar's banquets,  or  tossed  an  ugly  coin  to  blind 
Homer,  led  by  his  daughter  about  the  gates  of  Thebes. 
The  smoking-room,  into  which  the  four  were  ush- 
ered, —  where,  with  wine  and  cigarettes,  to  await  the 
prince,  —  was  luxurious  in  the  extreme.  There  were 
soft-cushioned  divans  perfumed  with  Oriental  odors,  a 
marble  floor  and  frescoed  walls.  A  black  marble 
Garamha  from  beside  the  fountain  in  the  great  Eden 
about  the  Taj  Mahal,  and  a  white  marble  Bacchus, 
guarded  appropriately  cigarettes  and  decanters  in 
elaborate  cases  at  their  feet. 

The  prince  was  engaged  at  the  moment  with  another 
caller  in  his  private  library.  See  !  A  very  picture  of 
manhood  he  !  tall,  athletic,  of  graceful  figure,  with  thick 
curling  hair,  only  a  moustache,  high  forehead,  and 
firm  but  laughing  eyes.  He  is  nine-and-twenty  or 
thereabout,  but  with  that  peculiar  maturity  and  in- 
tegrity in  his  large  eyes  and  determined  mouth  that 
one  may  sometimes  find,  but  rarely  this  side  of  the 


42  CASTLE    FOAM. 

ideal,  and  when  found,  one  finds  invariably  an 
honorable  and  a  handsome  man.  Such  was  Victor 
Reppoun,  the  Prince  von  Meerschaum.  His  friends, 
combining  the  two  titles,  knew  him  better  as  simply 
the  Prince  Reppoun. 

His  guest  is  small.  He  too  is  handsome,  and  with 
curling  hair,  a  waving  moustache,  and  peculiar  eyes. 
But  what  a  difference  !  Pluto  and  Apollo  !  Scarcely 
less.  After  a  peculiar  and  unreasonably  elongated 
introduction,  in  which  the  prince  had  vainly  endeav- 
ored to  solve  what  manner  of  man  he  was,  he  cut  the 
knot  by  remarking  abruptly,  "You  said  you  had 
business  with  me.  What  is  it?" 

The  stranger  planted  one  foot  forward,  as  if  to 
brace  himself  for  a  grand  effort,  and  said,  very 
slowly,  "  I  knew  the  prince,  your  father,  my  lord." 
And  he  hung  his  hands  by  his  thumbs  in  the  pockets 
of  his  pantaloons,  and  his  head  well  upon  one  side, 
and  his  eyes  half  closed  themselves. 

It  was  evident  that  the  stranger  had  proposed  a 
tragedy,  but  seeing  no  cause  for  any,  the  prince  re- 
plied, not  without  some  signs  of  bewilderment,  "  One 
is  always  welcome  coming  in  my  honored  father's 
name.  Be  seated,  friend,  and  smoke." 

"Ah  !  thanks  !  "  replied  the  little  man,  seating  him- 
self, and  leisurely  lighting  a  cigar;  and  then  he 
rambled  off  again  very  much  as  he  had  in  his  in- 
troduction, into  a  long,  meaningless  conversation, 
scarcely  possible  to  be  for  any  other  cause  than  to 
hear  himself  speak,  yet  carrying  withal  an  intimation 
of  a  point  somewhere,  and  only  half  covered.  The 
prince  listened  as  he  would  have  listened  to  the  bark- 
ing of  some  stupidly  innocent  dog  that  he  could 


PRINCE    VICTOR    VON    MEERSCHAUM.  43 

not  bring  himself  to  kick  into  silence,  till,  throwing 
away  the  last  of  his  third  cigar,  the  stranger  lit  a 
fresh  one,  rose,  bowed,  and  had  reached  the  door. 
Then  he  turned  suddenly  to  say,  "Beg  pardon,  my 
lord,  beg  pardon,  I  had — er — yes,  I  had  almost  for- 
gotten a  little  matter  which  I  came  to  speak  to  you 
about." 

Patience  was  hardly  a  virtue  any  longer,  and  rising, 
the  prince  replied,  "  Pray,  sir,  proceed.  What  is 
it?" 

"  Oh — er — nothing  of  great  importance  ;  no  ;  simply 
that  I  —  er  —  I  knew  the  prince,  your  father,  my 
lord." 

"  So  I  understood  you,  sir." 

"Did  you?  Yes,  yes,  perhaps  you  did.  But  I 
was  going  on  to  say  that  I  knew  him  to  his  sorrow. 
In  fact,  a  little  better  than  the  old  man  —  " 

"  Sir  !  " 

"  Beg  pardon,  my  lord,  beg  pardon.  Did  not  mean 
to  ruffle  you.  Only  meant  to  say  that  the  noble  prince, 
like  many  other  noblemen,  once  in  his  life  did  what 
he  had  better  have  left  undone,  and  that  I  knew  of  it. 
I  was  not  over-wealthy,  that  is  to  say,  not  uncom- 
fortably so  ;  so  every — er — yes,  every  now  and  then 
he  caused  yellow  souvenirs  of  the  event  to  be  sent  to 
me.  Golden  quieters,  you  know  !  " 

"Well?" 

"  Well,  and  well  what,  my  lord?  " 

"  Well  what !  " 

"Oh  —  er  —  yes,  I  see,  do  not  comprehend  me  yet, 
do  not  comprehend.  Then  let  me  be  explicit.  His 
Highness  thought  to  cheat  me  of  my  income  by — er — 
well,  by  dying.  But  not  so  think  I,  for  a  dutiful  son 


44 


CASTLE    FOAM. 


will  keep  a  father's  honor  just  as  sacred  as  his  own  ;  "• 
and  within  himself  he  added,  "  When  it  is  eminently 
for  his  own  advantage  to  do  so." 

"  That  honor  is  too  sacred  for  the  traffic  of  such  as 
you,"  said  the  prince  in  a  tone  lavish  with  disgust, 
yet  restrained  by  the  subject  of  which  he  spoke. 
"  But  did  you  also  think  that  I  should  give  you  money 
for  threats  like  these  ?  " 

"  Rem  acu  tctigisti! "  exclaimed  the  little  man, 
slapping  the  table.  "Exactly  so,  my  lord.  Exactly 
so  !  Money  !  yes,  money  !  That  powerful  lever  that 
will  move  the  world  will  move  me  too,  to  silence.  A 
silence,  let  me  add,  that  for  you  as  well  as  me  would 
be  verily  golden." 

"  Man,  you  are  a  fool !  and  if  you  leave  the  castle 
before  I  am  too  angry  to  be  patient,  your  exit  will  be 
the  easier  for  it.  I  have  no  idea  of  granting  what 
you  ask." 

"Beg  pardon,  my  lord;  I  do  not — er — ask,  I  de- 
mand it !  " 

The  unparalleled  impudence  of  some  men,  "cheek" 
we  call  it  in  this  modern  day,  is  a  matter  of  absolutely 
incomprehensible  wonder.  Ignorance  makes  the 
goose  hiss  at  the  lion.  But  surely  such  men  as  this 
one  before  us  are  not  ignorant.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  forbearance  of  some  men,  more  especially  those, 
of  all,  best  able  to  wreak  a  wholesome  vengeance,  is 
equally  astonishing.  The  prince  simply  answered, 
scornfully,  "I  wish  T  had  known  your  errand  when 
you  came.  You  had  better  go  now." 

"Come,  come,  my  lord,"  replied  the  little  man, 
much  as  if  he  were  urging  some  moral  duty  upon  a 
child,  "  do  not  grow  sarcastic  with  me  just  at  such  a 


PRINCE    VICTOR    VON    MEERSCHAUM.  45 

time,  for  I  must  live.  Mother  earth  is  bound  to  fur- 
nish a  support  for  all  her  offspring,  and  to  each  ac- 
cording to  the  palate  she  has  given  him.  Now  why 
should  not  I  live  upon  what  /know,  as  justly  as  you 
live  on  the  results  of  what  your  fathers  knew,  espe- 
cially as  in  my  case  it  is  supposable  that  the  fathers 
knew  nothing,  having  left  no  result  but  me.  Ignoble 
remnant,  am  I  not?  But  to  continue.  Illegitimate 
sons  are  not  thought  so  much  of  in  Russia  at  large  as 
by  their  fathers.  What  is  that  to  me?  You  have 
relatives  in  Germany  who  would  reward  one  well 
that  made  vacant  for  them  such  an  envied  princedom  ; 
and  I  can  do  it.  Do  you  begin  to  comprehend,  my 
lord?" 

"Fool !  You  intimate  that  I  am  not  the  lawful  heir 
of  the  house  of  Meerschaum.  It  need  only  be  proven, 
and  I  will  leave  the  place  vacant  in  an  hour." 

"  H'm.  That  is  one  way.  Another  is  to  give  me 
thirty  English  sovereigns  a  month.  Cassimir,  master 
of  the  black  bark  "Midnight,"  will  call  for  the  gold, 
and  thereby  my  lips  are  sealed.  But  mind  you,  and 
mind  you  well :  I'll  sell  my  knowledge  to  you  or  to 
one  who  hates  you.  I'll  serve  the  best  paymaster, 
and,  by  my  faith,  I'll  serve  him  well  !  Muzzle  not  the 
ox  that  treadeth  out  your  corn,  my  lord  prince." 

The  prince  started  to  his  feet,  and  without  waiting 
for  formality  or  even  a  bow,  the  little  man  was  gone. 

Left  alone,  the  prince  sat  silently  pondering  for  a 
moment,  then  rose  and  laughed  at  himself.  "  What 
a  fool  I,"  he  exclaimed,  "to  think  for  an  instant  of 
the  haranguing  of  this  distorted  Heoredipetoe  !  Ille- 
gitimate? Impossible!  My  mother  had  but  one  child, 
myself,  beside  Marie,  who  was  only  adopted  at  the 


46  CASTLE    FOAM. 

best,  and  has  lain  for  fifteen  years  and  more  in  the 
vault  of  our  little  church  at  Schaumburg.  If  I  were 
not  the  lawful  heir,  I'd  rather  beg  my  bread  than  keep 
a  mortal  for  one  day  from  what  is  his  by  right.  But 
if  I  be  the  Prince  von  Meerschaum,  and  till  something 
more  is  told  than  that,  I  shall  surely  think  I  am.  Ah  ! 
sneaking  blackmailer,  'twill  take  more  than  your  sil- 
vern speech  to  purchase  a  ruble's  worth  of  silence  ! " 

Thereupon,  dismissing  the  subject  entirely  from  his 
mind,  as  not  worthy  a  moment's  consideration,  he 
sought  the  smoking-room,  where  his  approach  was 
heralded  by  two  pages  in  bright  uniforms,  who  threw 
the  great  doors  open,  and  knelt,  as  though  his  Royal 
Highness  the  Tzar  were  passing  in. 

"Welcome,  friends  of  mine  !"  exclaimed  the  prince, 
extending  both  hands  to  his  guests;  "welcome  to 
Castle  Foam  on  this  beautiful  morning  ! " 

"  You  honor  us.  We  salute  your  Highness,"  said 
Major  Wolzonn,  with  a  rather  solemn  bow. 

"  The  honor  is  to  me,  not  you,  friend  major." 

And  the  major  replied  : 

"  '  Honor  be  given  where  honor  is  due; 
You  honor  us  that  we  honor  you.'  " 

"Up  to  your  old  tricks  with  other  men's  words  at 
once,"  laughed  the  prince.  "But  why  not,  indeed? 
It  is  actions,  not  words,  eh?  that  tell  the  tale  with 
soldiers.  And  now,  friends,  breakfast  is  waiting. 
Come  out  with  me  to  the  coffee-room." 

Four  marble  figures  supported  a  table  burdened 
with  delicacies ;  and  as  the  five  gathered  about  it, 
naturally  enough  a  lack,  the  only  one,  was  made  all 
the  more  evident  by  the  remaining  perfections.  One 


PRINCE    VICTOR    VON    MEERSCHAUM.  47 

of  the  guests  spoke  his  mind.  "  How  a  lady's  form 
would  grace  my  lord's  palace,  making  heaven  of  para- 
dise !  " 

It  gave  the  cue,  and  another  added,  "  Even  Eden 
pleased  neither  Maker  nor  tenant  without  an  Eve." 

"They  are  a  dangerous  sisterhood,"  laughed  the 
prince.  "  Remember,  I  pray  you,  why  Adam  is  not 
in  Eden  still." 

"  And  will  my  lord  resist  a  temptation  to  Paris  this 
summer,  where  the  Princess  Shehovskoi  spends  a 
month?  " 

"  A  great  temptation  surely  !  Into  that  hotbed  of 
France,  to  watch  a  woman  whom  we  see  every  day, 
the  winter  through,  on  our  own  beautiful  Prospect." 

"  Can  you  devise  an  excuse  as  good  against  Swit- 
zerland and  the  daughter  of  the  Countess  von  Krama- 
reff ?  And,  by  the  by,  the  banquet !  — just  a  week  to- 
night ! " 

Major  Wolzonn's  eyes  flashed  with  this  last  name, 
in  spite  of  the  curving  lip  and  scornful  laugh,  as  the 
prince  responded,  "Ah,  friends,  why  chase  them? 
They  will  all  come  back  of  themselves.  Vacation 
should  be  recreation." 

"And  not  an  opportunity  to  break  one's  heart 
anew,"  added  the  major. 

"And  is  your  heart  also  weary  with  its  breakings, 
that  you  understand  my  case  so  thoroughly  ?  " 

The  prince  laughed  heartily  over  his  cup  of  tea, 
and  possibly  the  major's  cheek  flushed  a  little  under 
his  moustache  and  beard,  as  he  answered  dryly, 
"  Somewhat  weary." 

Prince  Reppoun  had  hardly  given  the  countess's 
banquet  a  thought.  Now  it  suddenly  occurred  to 


48  CASTLE    FOAM. 

him  that  his  invitation  had  been  such  that  he  must 
either  go  or  excuse  himself.  The  latter  he  always 
did  when  opportunity  offered,  and  instantly  resolved 
to  make  an  opportunity  just  here.  The  result  of  il 
was  his  next  remark,  as  he  leaned  back  from  the 
table. 

"Friend  major,  I've  a  resort  in  my  mind  far 
better  for  such  as  we  than  women,  France,  or  Swit- 
zerland." 

"  Look  before  you  leap,  my  lord,"  said  the  officei 
dryly. 

"Look  you,  then  !  When  I  was  a  boy,  my  fathei 
turned  me  loose  one  summer  —  sent  me  out  to  pas- 
ture on  an  estate  of  his  in  Poland." 

"  Suggestive  intimation  that  we  go  out  to  pasture 
too." 

"  Nothing  less,  friend  major.  I  have  not  beer 
there  since ;  but  as  I  remember  it,  the  surrounding:: 
were  richer  as  hunting-grounds  than  I  have  evei 
found  in  Russia.  I  am  going  to  test  the  truth  this 
summer,  starting  the  day  after  to-morrow,  and  I  invitt 
you  all  to  go  with  me.  Will  you  go?" 

The  major's  hands  had  fallen  suddenly  upon  the 
table  with  this  information,  and  in  his  eyes  was  i 
blank,  vacant  stare;  a  shudder  ran  over  him,  anc 
while  all  the  rest  acclaimed  their  pleasure  in  accept- 
ing, he  sat  like  one  deaf,  dumb,  and  blind.  Yet,  if 
the  truth  were  told,  he  was  more  anxious  than  an} 
other  in  that  company  to  go  into  Poland  with  the 
Prince  von  Meerschaum. 


AN    EMERALD    OCEAN.  49 


CHAPTER    VI. 

AN    EMERALD    OCEAN. 

THE  major  had  said,  K  Confound  it !  "  and  said  it 
strong,  when  out  of  sight  and  sound.  He 
cursed  his  luck  that  he  was  a  soldier  instead  of  a 
nobleman,  and  was  therefore  simply  allowed  to  move 
in  society  where  he  could  not  marry.  He  cursed 
the  Prince  Reppoun  and  a  hundred  others,  and 
swore  a  love  as  eternal  as  the  everlasting  hills. 
That  was  the  trouble.  The  soldier  was  in  love  ;  and 
love  in  a  soldier  is  not  unlike  love  in  a  nobleman, 
or  any  man,  I  fancy.  His  stripes  and  epaulets  and 
breastplate  of  honors  are  but  a  pretense,  after  all. 
But  the  great  trouble  with  Major  Wolzonn  was  that 
he  had  fallen  in  love  a  little  above  his  rank  in  soci- 
ety ;  a  freak  one  never  indulges  in,  whether  success- 
fully or  otherwise,  without  sadly  regretting  it  in  time, 
in  a  land  where  the  demarkations  of  society  are  so 
plain  as  they  were  in  Russia.  The  object  of  this  af- 
fection was  his  cousin,  the  Countess  von  KramarefF's 
daughter.  He  could  not  content  himself  to  go  away 
to  Poland  without  making  at  least  one  last  attempt  to 
win  her  favor.  Last !  For  two  years  past  each  sep- 
arate attempt  had  been  his  last,  until  he  found  an 
opportunity  to  make  another.  Being  a  relative,  he 
had  much  more  liberty  at  the  Kramareff  mansion 
4 


[JO  CASTLE    FOAM. 

than  others  enjoyed,  and  found  it  easy  to  secure  a 
moment  alone  with  the  lady  he  loved,  or  fancied  he 
loved,  more  than  heaven  and  earth  beside.  He  was 
older  than  she  by  sixteen  years,  —  a  sort  of  second 
father,  the  mother-countess  thought.  He  chose  the 
time  for  this  "last  appeal  "  when  taking  his  leave  for 
his  hunting-trip.  The  result  was  so  near  what  he 
expected  that  he  might  have  acted  it  all  out  in  his 
own  room,  and  saved  this  "last"  till  some  other  time. 
She  put  out  her  little  white  hand  as  confidently  as  to 
a  father,  and  said,  "  My  true  friend,  Major  Wolzonn, 
you  have  always  been,  and  I  pray  you,  oh,  so  ear- 
nestly !  ever  be  my  friend.  But  more  than  that  why 
will  you  ask  me,  when  you  know  it  cannot  be  in  jus- 
tice to  our  family."  It  was  short  and  sweet,  —  a 
pretty  speech  and  comprehensive ;  something  like  a 
general's  speech  on  a  battle-eve,  only  that  here  it 
came  after  the  battle.  There  was  one  thing,  too, 
that  was  not  as  he  expected.  She  did  not  sob,  or 
turn  her  head  away.  She  had  always  sobbed  more 
or  less  before,  and  sometimes  turned  her  head  quite 
away  from  him.  Just  now  there  was  a  more  impor- 
tant being  sitting  at  the  fountain-head,  claiming  all 
the  tears,  and  the  major  half  suspected  something  of 
the  sort.  He  took  the  refusal  like  a  soldier,  however, 
grasped  the  little  hand  in  both  of  his,  and  on  his 
knees  said,  "  Then  I  will  try  and  let  this  be  the  last. 
Hold  me  a  friend,  my  lady,  and  by  my  sword  and 
this  fair  hand,  Theseus  shall  not  be  more  worthy  such 
a  place  ! " 

The  soldier  had  conquered  the  lover,  temporarily 
at  least  and  as  the  world  saw  it ;  and  even  his  idol 
lady,  who  boasted  no  truer  friend,  never  knew  how 


AN    EMERALD    OCEAN.  5 1 

deep  were  the  folds  of  crape  that  in  a  word  and  a 
moment  she  had  wound  about  a  human  heart;  for 
though  they  lasted  long,  they  were  fast  bound  under 
a  uniform. 

It  was  with  an  over-heavy  heart  that  he  rode  with 
the  gay  company  toward  their  hunting-ground. 
They  had  mounted  early  the  last  morning,  and  were 
very  near  their  destination,  as  announced  by  the 
guide  who  rode  in  advance.  They  followed,  single 
file,  down  a  narrow  lane.  The  rear  was  brought  up 
by  their  valets,  baggage  mules,  and  the  hunter  with 
the  hounds. 

Only  an  hour  before,  the  golden  rays  of  the  rising 
sun  had  shot  across  the  valley.  Like  fire-darts  they 
had  struck  the  distant  hill-tops,  and  in  an  instant  the 
magic  touch  had  wrought  a  crown  of  glory  there, 
while  the  fog-banks  sank  lower  into  the  valley,  and 
the  darkness,  driven  from  the  summit,  seemed  to  lie 
with  double  blackness  down  below.  Night  is  forever 
so  reluctant  to  give  place  to  day  ! 

The  guide  reached  the  summit  in  advance,  and  sat 
upon  the  bold  peak,  with  one  hand  stretched  trium- 
phantly toward  the  valley  beyond. 

"  Eureka ! "  cried  the  Prince  Reppoun,  the  first 
huntsman  upon  the  scene,  to  the  others  who  urged 
their  horses  after  him.  "  Come  and  look  at  these  wide 
leagues  of  emerald  floating  in  the  wind,  and  tell  me 
if  such  forests  are  not  worth  the  coming  here  to  see 
even  ! " 

"The  will  of  the  wind  is  than  Fancy  less  fickle.' 
Wait  a  week,  my  lord,  and  you  will  hate  that  solemn, 
green  ocean  from  sheer  satiety." 

K  And  a  few  more  of  those  poetical  wisdoms  of  yours 


t; 2  CASTLE    FOAM. 

to  dampen  our  ardor,"  said  the  prince  to  Major  Wol- 
zonn,  "I  vow,  will  condemn  you  in  an  open  court- 
martial." 

But  their  hunting  and  fishing,  while  camping  by 
the  lake,  were  not  altogether  satiety.  For  example, 
the  Prince  Reppoun,  becoming  heated  in  the  chase 
and  separated  from  the  others,  stopped  his  horse  for 
a  moment  on  the  banks  of  a  deep  gurgling  brook. 
While  the  animal  drank,  the  master  languidly  re- 
peated Shelley's  thought  of  the  Serchio. 

"  Fervid  from  its  mountain  source, 
Silent,  smooth,  and  strong  doth  course." 

"  Silently  "  the  reins  fell  from  his  hand  and  into  the 
water.  He  sprang  to  catch  them.  The  horse  started. 
The  soft  bank  gave  way  under  his  feet.  With  a  sud- 
den lunge  he  saved  himself;  but  at  sight  of  his  rider 
emerging  from  the  brook's  depth  dripping  with  water 
and  mud,  he  gave  a  loud  whinny  of  freedom,  tossing 
the  mossy  earth  into  the  air  behind  him  by  way  of 
a  farewell,  and  wheeling  about,  as  disdainfully  as 
Pegasus  from  the  plow,  he  sprang  upward  and 
away. 

The  prince  laughed,  even  before  he  had  gained 
a  footing  on  the  bank.  There  was  certainly  some- 
thing absurd  in  it  all ;  but  the  fortunate  thing  was  that 
the  sufferer  should  see  it. 


THE    PEARL    THAT    LAY    BURIED    THERE.  53 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE   PEARL  THAT  LAY  BURIED  THERE. 

F  DRIP  very  like  the  bronze  from  the  mausoleum 
JL  of  Hadrian  that  stands  in  the  fountain  of  the 
basilica  of  St.  Peter's.  With  no  apparent  cause,  no 
source  from  which  the  water  comes,  like  him,  I  still 
continue  dripping,"  observed  the  prince,  as  he  worked 
with  sticks  and  leaves  to  rid  his  clothes  of  mud.  His 
arms  ached.  It  was  almost  a  despairing  juncture, 
when  a  rustling  in  the  leaves  betrayed  a  young  girl 
rising  from  a  mossy  log,  not  fifteen  feet  away  from 
him,  hidden  by  the  shrubbery.  She  was  surely 
laughing  at  his  severe  maneuvering.  It  was  rather 
awkward,  yet  he  raised  his  hat,  stammering,  "  These 
are  most  ungraceful  circumstances  in  which  to  meet 
a  lady." 

"  Dear  me  !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  you  must  not  mind 
me,  for  I'm  hardly  nineteen,  and  only  a  village  girl 
at  that."  Smiles  chased  each  other  over  a  pretty, 
merry  face,  not  at  all  unrefined,  though  brown,  as 
she  continued,  "  Only  I  thought  I  could  do  that  better 
than  you,  perhaps,  though  I  am  not  so  large."  Two 
coal-black  eyes  wandered  slowly  upward  from  his 
feet,  till  half  askance  they  rested  full  upon  his  own, 
and  sent  a  quiver  of  some  strange  sort  down  into  his 
heart.  She  looked  up,  much  as  one  from  a  valley 


54  CASTLE    FOAM. 

surveys  a  snow-capped  mountain,  and  the  freshest  of 
rosy  lips  involuntarily  murmured,  "  What  a  tremen- 
dous thing  you  are,  I  do  declare  !  "  Then  forthwith 
she  began  brushing  off  the  mud,  despite  his  protesta- 
tions. 

For  the  life  of  him,  the  prince  could  think  of  noth- 
ing to  say.  Silence  was  more  than  oppressive ;  and 
at  last,  in  despair,  he  fairly  sprang  away  from  her, 
exclaiming,  "  That  will  do,  that  will  do  ;  indeed  it 
will,  lady  !  "  She  examined  him  carefully  from  head 
to  foot,  and  demurely  pronounced  her  judgment. 

"It  is  surely  better  than  it  was,  sire." 

"  You  must  have  wandered  very  far,"  said  he,  look- 
ing at  her  admiringly. 

"  Not  so  very  far,"  she  said.  "  I've  lived  for  years 
in  the  old  mill  yonder ;  and  a  little  down  below  is  the 
village  of  Arantha.  Were  you  never  there,  sire?  " 

"  I  never  was,  lady."  His  answer  was  brief,  for  he 
was  busy  upon  a  tour  of  inspection.  She  was  short, 
and  classically  delicate,  this  little  waif  who  had  "  lived 
for  years  in  the  old  mill  yonder."  Every  motion  was 
innately  graceful,  in  spite  of  the  simplest  of  peas- 
ants' costume.  Rich  masses  of  raven-black  hair, 
only  half  covered  by  the  Polish  sun-hat  hanging  idly 
upon  her  shoulders,  fell  thick  to  her  waist.  In  her 
dark  and  literally  flashing  eyes,  her  thin,  straight, 
Danish  nose,  her  firm  but  rosy  lips,  and  delicately 
tapering  wrists,  hands,  and  fingers,  was  a  depth  of 
refinement  difficult  to  understand;  as  strange  an 
anomaly  in  such  a  place  as  would  be  the  sacred  lotos 
of  the  Nile  on  the  dry  breast  of  the  Sahara.  Not- 
withstanding that  the  prince  was  champion  of  Peters- 


THE    PEARL    THAT    LAY    BURIED    THERE.  55 

burg  as  un  cceur  glace,  the  novelty  pleased  him. 
Why  not  ? 

"  Have  you  always  lived  here,  ma  petite?  "  he  asked, 
and  to  his  astonishment,  catching  the  last  words  of  his 
question,  she  left  the  Polish  dialect  in  which  they  had 
been  speaking,  and  in  perfect  French  replied :  "  Oh, 
no,  indeed,  sire,  not  always,  though  for  longer  than  I 
can  remember." 

A  book  lay  on  the  log  where  she  had  been  sitting. 
He  picked  it  up,  and  in  amazement  turned  over  leaf 
after  leaf  of  the  Divine  Comedy  of  Dante  Alighieri, 
in  old  Italian. 

"And  can  you  read  this  too,  lady?  "  he  exclaimed. 

"I  was  reading  it,  sire,  till  you  disturbed  me.  But 
I'm  no  lady." 

"  These  are  deep  thoughts  for  a  young  mind,"  said 
the  prince. 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed,  sire ;  and  very  much  too  deep 
forme;  but —  Well,  do  you  know  I  have  actually 
learned  by  heart  all  my  books  that  are  easy  to  under- 
stand, French  and  Russian  ;  and  there  are  only  a  few 
of  these  hard  ones  left,  so  I  must  read  them,  don't  you 
see?  And,  of  course,  it  would  not  grow  easier  to 
understand  simply  because  I  grew  old ;  so  why  not 
read  it  now  as  well  as  by  and  by  ?  " 

"  But  the  book  is  very  valuable  as  well  as  hard  to 
read." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so  ;  but  I  had  very  little  to  do  with 
that.  The  giver  of  the  book  and  the  teacher  to  read 
it  were  the  same.  Good  Father  Arantha,  our  priest 
down  yonder."  She  crossed  herself,  and  whispered, 
"  Holy  Mary  guard  his  ashes  where  they  lie  under 


56  CASTLE    FOAM. 

the  altar  !  They  changed  the  name  of  the  village  to 
his  when  he  died,  sire." 

"  But  why  is  a  vile  cross  like  this  on  a  cover  owned 
by  a  Greek  priest,  ma  petite  ?  " 

"  The  cross  is  not  vile  !  "  she  answered  sharply. 
"  He  was  far  holier  to  me  than  a  Greek  priest,  sire ; 
he  was  a  Roman  Catholic." 

She  had  been  picking  leaves  from  a  linden  spray 
and  dropping  them  while  she  spoke.  This  time  she 
threw  one  upon  the  ground  so  fiercely,  and  looked  up 
with  such  a  bold,  defiant  fire  in  her  black  eyes  and 
toss  of  her  raven-black  hair,  that  despite  himself  the 
prince  could  not  refrain  from  smiling,  and  the  very 
endeavor  to  refrain  made  matters  so  many  times  the 
worse.  She  had  a  fair  share  of  pride  too,  for  her 
brown  cheeks  were  purple  in  an  instant,  and  rising 
from  the  log  where  she  had  seated  herself  again,  she 
turned  quickly  to  leave  him,  exclaiming,  "  It  pleases 
me  that  I  have  been  able  to  amuse  you,  sire." 

The  prince  sprang  forward,  and,  fascinated  more 
by  this  little  brown  child  of  the  wilderness  than  ever 
by  gay  exotic  of  his  fair  home,  fell  upon  his  knee,  and 
catching  one  little  brown  hand  in  his,  pleaded  earnest- 
ly, "Forgive,  forgive  me,  lady.  I  wish  you  well,  and 
your  religion,  far  more  truly  than  you  think." 

"  Weal  or  woe  for  wishing  is  quite  the  same  to  me, 
sire,"  she  replied,  with  an  independent  toss  of  the 
little  head,  as  who  should  say,  "  The  forests  are  mine, 
and  the  trees  are  bigger  than  you,  sire." 

"But  you  can  forgive  me,  lady.  You  surely  can 
be  generous  enough  to  grant  me  that." 

"Perhaps,"  she  said,  glancing  down  upon  him  with 
a  little  laugh  in  the  corners  of  the  merry  black  eyes. 


THE  PEARL,  THAT  LAY  BURIED  THERE.     57 

"  But,  indeed,  sire,  I  am  no  lady,  and  —  Please, 
sire,  you  hurt  my  hand." 

Victor  Reppoun  dropped  the  tiny  palm,  and  almost 
a  blush  swept  across  his  cheek.  He  rose  from  his 
knees,  at  the  same  time  picking  up  one  of  the  linden 
leaves.  He  offered  to  walk  with  her  to  the  mill,  as 
the  shadows  were  growing  very  long. 

"That's  rather  odd,"  she  remarked,  demurely; 
"very  well  for  politeness,  I  suppose.  But  really,  it  is 
I  must  show  you  the  way,  and  when  we  get  to  the 
old  mill  I'll  lend  you  my  pony.  Have  you  very  far 
to  go?" 

Ah  me  !  This  iceberg  from  the  northern  seas  had 
floated  very  calmly  into  the  gulf  stream,  and  was 
wasting.  It  had  not  once  occurred  to  him  that  he 
had  no  more  to  do  than  wind  his  bugle,  when  a  page 
would  bring  his  horse. 

"  Good  Lord  !  "  he  ejaculated,  "  I  had  forgotten  my- 
self. Indeed,  I  do  not  know  how  far  I  have  to  go, 
lady.  Where  is  Round  Lake,  do  you  know?  " 

"The  Round  Lake?  Dear  me  !  It  is  such  a  ways 
from  here  that  I  think  you  could  never  walk  it  in  the 
world.  You  are  a  nobleman,  are  you  not,  sire?" 

"And  can  a  nobleman  do  nothing,  ma  petite?" 

"  Some  things,  I  suppose,  but  not  everything,  can  he  ? 
And  if  all  the  little  story-books  you  think  I  ought  to 
read  are  true,  he  is  surely  not  much  of  a  pedestrian, 
but  is  always  riding  in  grand  coaches.  My  pony  will 
go  the  distance  for  you,  though,  while  you  are  wink- 
ing fifty  times.  Just  let  him  follow  the  brook  on  the 
other  side  yonder,  and  if  he  does  not  stop  before, 
he'll  wind  up  by  dropping  you  over  his  head  right 
into  the  lake.  Do  you  see,  sire?" 


c;  8  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"  I  see,  little  one,  and  will  hold  quits  with  the  brook 
for  the  wetting  it  gave  me." 

They  came  out  upon  the  lake,  and  in  ecstasy  he 
exclaimed : 

"  Ah  !  lovely  spot !  How  I  should  admire  to  pat 
you  in  my  sketch-book  !  " 

She  looked  up  with  that  peculiar  searching  glance 
which  black  eyes  are  apt  to  possess,  a  bewitching 
sort  of  interrogation,  and  observed  : 

"  That's  odd  !  A  nobleman  and  an  artist  too,  my 
lord?  But  it  is  a  pretty  place.  An  Italian  artist 
has  been  at  Arantha  for  a  week,  sketching  about 
the  mill." 

While  she  talked  she  unbound  a  light  canoe.  The 
prince  looked  doubtfully  at  the  frail  bauble,  and  asked  : 

"  Shall  I  not  wade,  or  swim,  for  short?  This  ship 
is  scarcely  large  enough  to  ferry  a  fairy." 

"Please,  sire,"  she  replied,  almost  anxiously,  "you've 
had  enough  of  the  water  for  one  day,  I  should  think ; 
or  do  you  like  it?  Now  get  in  ! "  And  while  the  prince 
seated  himself  as  awkwardly  as  might  well  be,  she 
added :  "  My  little  boat  is  not  so  big  as  that  black 
horse  of  yours.  What  a  tremendous  thing  he  was ! 
But  my  boat  never  tipped  me  into  the  water,  you 
know,  and  really  I  don't  believe  it  could.  Big  things 
are  not  always  the  best,  are  they?"  she  asked,  eva- 
sively. "  I  mean,  some  things." 

"You  mean  my  legs,"  said  the  prince,  no  longer  try- 
ing to  suppress  a  laugh,  though  the  canoe  shook  like 
a  leaf  in  the  wind.  "  No,  they  are  not  always,  I 
admit.  Just  now  they  would  be  much  better  if  a  foot 
or  two  shorter." 

"  That  would  be  rather  odd.     But  be  careful !  "    As 


THE  PEARL  THAT  LAY  BURIED  THERE.     59 

she  stepped  into  the  boat  it  gave  a  lurch  that  seemed 
to  the  prince  to  have  nearly  overturned  it.  "The 
water  is  cold  for  a  bath  —  is  it  not,  sire?" 

"A  little,  yes.  At  all  events  you  had  better  not 
take  one." 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed,  sire,  I  don't  expect  to." 

"Sh — sh — shall  I  row?"  asked  Victor  Reppoun. 

"Can  you?"  she  replied,  doubtfully. 

"Give  me  the  oars,  and  see,"  said  he,  still  holding 
fast  with  both  hands  to  the  sides  of  the  canoe. 

"  Oars  !  "  she  cried.  "  I  never  had  but  one  —  one 
at  a  time,  I  mean.  That  other  stick  is  my  push-off 
pole.  But  you  may  try,  if  you  wish  to.  Here  it  is." 

Victor  Reppoun  had  no  sooner  taken  the  slender 
oar  in  his  trembling  hand  than  the  little  craft  gave 
such  a  lurch  that  she  shipped  a  thimbleful  of  water. 
The  prince  grasped  the  sides  again,  entirely  uncon- 
scious that  the  one  little  oar  had  slipped  away  from 
him,  and  was  floating  off. 

"Dear  me  !"  sighed  the  captain,  her  hand  upon  her 
heart,  while  vindictive  smiles  were  carousing  all  over 
her  pretty  face.  "  I  really  thought  you  were  going 
to  do  that  same  thing  over  again.  Did  you  do  it  on 
purpose  the  first  time  ?  I  thought  it  was  an  accident. 
Dear  me  ! " 

The  prince  very  slowly  unwound  his  'legs  that  were 
coiled  painfully  under  him.  She  watched  him  with 
the  utmost  attention,  her  hands  quietly  crossed  in- her 
lap,  her  little  feet  thrust  comfortably  forward,  one 
resting  on  the  other,  and  the  toe  meditatively  swing- 
ing from  side  to  side ;  and  when  he  had  finished,  she 
added,  with  another  sigh,  "  Please,  sire,  we  are  not 
going  very  fast." 


60  CASTLE   FOAM. 

"  Oh  !  but  —  why  —  where  are  the  —  " 

"Please,  sire,  there  was  but  one  —  one  at  a  time,  I 
mean." 

"Well,  then,  where  is  the  oar?" 

"I  gave  it  to  you.     You  could  not  have  —  " 

"  But  I  did  ;  I  dropped  it  overboard." 

"  Dear  me  !  And  is  that  the  way  a  nobleman  rows 
a  boat,  sire?" 

She  turned  about,  took  her  seat  for  a  paddle,  and, 
kneeling  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  began  to  splash 
and  talk. 

"It's  because  I'm  not  big  enough  for  two,  sire, 
that's  why ;  and  I  see  you  are  too  big  for  one ;  so 
when  I  get  it  again  I  think  I'd  better  keep  it  —  don't 
you  ?  And  even  now  I'll  hardly  get  home  in  time  to 
drive  to  barn  my  little  cow,  and  feed  my  pony.  He's 
not  so  big  as  yours,  but  he  does  very  well  for  me. 
He—" 

"  Stop  !  stop  !  child ;  there  is  the  oar.  See  !  you 
have  missed  it !  "  and  Victor  Reppoun  had  not  dared 
lift  a  hand  to  catch  it,  though  it  almost  struck  the 
boat. 

"  What  did  you  say,  sire  ?  "  and  a  face  just  rollick- 
ing with  smiles  turned  over  her  shoulder —  she  had 
been  kneeling  with  her  back  toward  him  —  as  with 
scarcely  a  perceptible  motion  she  caught  the  tip  of 
the  oar  in  -the  tips  of  her  fingers. 

"I  said  you'd  upset  us  if  you  don't  look  out,  lady." 

"  Oh,  so  indeed  I  will  in  just  a  minute.  I  want  to 
get  things  all  ready  first,  for  I'm  going  to  show  you 
what  one  little  oar  and  one  little  girl  can  do.  But 
can't  you  swim?  Don't  be  afraid,  I  can,  and  I'll  save 
you  if  you  tumble  in,  Now  then  !  "  She  seated  her- 


THE    PEARL    THAT    LAY    BURIED    THERE.  6 1 

self  at  last,  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  her  passenger. 
"  Take  care  !  and  hold  on  tight !  " 

"Indeed,  lady,  I  could  not  hold  tighter  to  save 
my  life." 

And  she  showed  him  beyond  a  doubt.  They  shot 
like  an  arrow,  as  the  little  oar  in  her  strong  arms 
bent  almost  half  double.  Only  a  moment  it  seemed. 
He  had  not  yet  become  accustomed  to  the  motion, 
when  a  sudden  turn  of  the  oar  made  the  speed  slacken, 
and  a  sudden  grating,  and  a  sudden  stopping  short, 
threw  the  proud  Prince  von  Meerschaum  flat  upon  his 
back. 

"And  did  you  hurt  yourself,  or  did  you  do  it  on 
purpose?"  she  asked  compassionately,  and  before  he 
could  gather  himself  up  to  reply,  she  had  pointed  him 
to  an  arbor  where  he  could  wait  for  her,  and  hurried 
away  to  the  old  mill  yonder. 

He  had  not  waited  long  when  down  the  narrow 
path,  not  skipping  like  a  still  outgrown  baby,  nor 
yet  with  the  dreamy  step  of  a  maiden  of  much  and 
hard  reading,  came  the  fairy  of  the  forest  in  simple 
peasant  fashion,  clasping  the  hand  of — 

"  Papa,  the  miller,  my  lord." 

The  old  man  bowed  very  low  to  the  prince,  looking 
him  over  from  head  to  foot.  His  mental  observation 
was,  "A  Russian  nobleman,  and  of  high  rank,  I'll  be 
bound.  Now,  by  my  soul,  this  must  not  be  !  —  Kathi 
Chichkini,"  he  said,  addressing  the  girl,  "  run  to  the 
house  and  direct  about  the  work  I  was  overseeing." 

The  mental  observation  of  the  prince  on  the  same 
sort  of  a  survey  was  :  "  No  low-born  country  soul, 
this  miller  of  Arantha.  He  has  seen  the  world,  and 
has  the  weight  of  some  wickedness  on  his  mind." 


62  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"You  are  welcome,  my  lord,"  said  the  old  man, 
more  courteously,  when  Kathi  Chichkim  was  well  out 
of  sight.  "  My  daughter  tells  me  you  were  unhorsed, 
and  have  five  versts  to  go.  You  are  welcome  to  her 
pony,  it  is  a  fine  riding  animal.  You  may  return  it 
in  the  morning.  And  pardon  me,  my  lord,"  he  added, 
as  a  boy  brought  a  tray  of  steaming  tea,  with  bread 
and  honey,  "  when  you  have  eaten  of  our  bread  and 
salt  you  had  best  be  quickly  off,  for  the  road  is  a 
faint  footpath,  and  it  will  be  very  dark  before  you 
reach  the  Round  Lake." 

The  prince  recalled  the  fact  that  the  moon  was  full 
and  high,  and  would  also  have  discovered  the  true 
cause  of  the  miller's  anxiety,  had  he  been  watching 
him  instead  of  drinking  tea.  And  now  the  "pony  " 
was  brought,  —  a  fiery  saddle-horse,  full  of  the  fury 
of  the  winds,  and  almost  more  than  the  man  could 
manage  who  led  him  forward.  It  required  all  the 
skill  of  the  experienced  rider  to  mount;  but  once 
mounted,  the  prince  was  much  more  at  home  than  in 
the  little  boat  upon  the  lake.  The  animal  reared, 
lunged,  kicked,  neighed  wildly  under  the  unaccus- 
tomed burden,  giving  the  rider  an  abundance  of  time, 
before  he  was  finally  prepared  to  listen  to  argument, 
to  draw  a  magnificently  jewelled  dagger  from  his 
belt,  which  he  tossed  at  the  feet  of  the  miller,  saying, 
"An  earnest,  father,  that  I  will  return  in  the  morning." 

He  looked  about  him  for  Kathi  Chichkini,  a  new 
name  that  now  rang  in  his  ears  as  persistently  as 
though  all  the  elves  of  Poland  were  crying  it  after 
him.  She  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Reluctantly  he 
gave  up  a  wish  to  say  farewell,  and  turned  toward  the 
high  gate  in  the  strong  wall  that  guarded  the  mill  from 


THE    PEARL    THAT    LAY    BURIED    THERE.  63 

the  wild  beasts  in  fhe  winter  time.  The  only  half- 
tamed  horse  was  rearing  and  prancing  along,  much 
to  the  delight  of  the  prince,  who  was  an  admirable 
horseman,  when  just  upon  the  other  side  the  gate  he 
discovered  Kathi  Chichkini  sitting  on  the  grass  as 
though  nothing,  not  even  a  ripple,  had  crossed  the 
smooth  surface  of  her  life's  lake.  She  was  feeding  a 
calf  from  her  apron,  though  it  was  the  very  last  mo- 
ments of  the  twilight,  and  fully  time  that  any  calf 
were  stabled  for  the  night. 

"And  what  art  thou  doing  here,  little  one?"  he 
asked,  dropping  almost  unconsciously  into  the  famil- 
iar "thou"  of  the  Russian.  But  the  court  language 
pleased  this  small  country  girl  better  than  Russian. 
She  spoke  it  with  wonderful  grace,  and  in  it  replied. 

"Among  other  things,"  she  said,  demurely,  "I  was 
imagining  myself  mistress  of  an  immense  park,  and 
that  this  stupid  calf  was  one  of  my  deer ;  but  he  did 
not  play  his  part  well." 

"And  what  else?"  asked  the  prince.  The  horse 
was  more  quiet  now,  as  though  the  sight  of  his  mis- 
tress were  a  charm. 

"Waiting  to  see  you  off,"  she  replied  frankly,  look- 
ing up  with  wide-opened  eyes  that  seemed  to  the 
prince  almost  to  wonder  why  he  should  have  asked 
such  a  thing.  Acting  upon  the  inclination  of  the 
moment,  he  was  about  to  stop  for  a  little  chat,  when 
she  added,  "  But  I  think  you'd  better  be  on  the  way, 
sire  ;  it's  almost  dark." 

"So  it  is,"  said  the  prince,  involuntarily  asking 
himself,  "  What  is  it  makes  each  of  them  so  fearful  of 
the  other?"  for  the  girl  had  peeped  round  the  corner 
of  the  fence  and  through  the*  gate  as  she  spoke. 


64  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"  They  are  not  so  afraid  of  the  dark,  I'll  venture. 
There's  the  ghost  of  some  secret  hidden  in  the  old 
mill  yonder ; "  and  though  he  had  not  the  curiosity 
even  granted  to  the  average  Russian,  which  is  very 
little  by  nature,  he  added,  "  I  wonder  what  it  is." 
Then,  lifting  his  hat,  he  smiled  in  spite  of  his  mo- 
mentary vexation  at  being  invited  to  be  on  his  way, 
and  turned  the  vicious  animal  away  from  Kathi 
Chichkini.  Finding  a  master  on  his  back,  the  horse 
at  last  started  into  a  furious  run.  Looking  back,  the 
rider  waved  a  farewell  salute,  and  saw  a  handful  of 
grass,  pulled  for  the  calf,  waved  to  him  in  return. 
The  calf  s  head  bobbed  about  this  way  and  that  after 
the  blades.  He  saw  that,  too,  and  indistinctly  heard, 
"  Please,  sire,  be  careful  that  you  don't  fall  off!" 


A    CLOUD-SHADOW    OVER    THE    OLD    MILL.          65 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

A   CLOUD-SHADOW  OVER  THE   OLD   MILL  YONDER. 

KATHI  CHICHKINI  did  not  go  directly  through 
the  gate  again,  though  she  had  told  the  strict- 
est truth  that  she  came  out  there  to  see  her  pony  and 
his  rider  off.  They  were  gone,  and  the  air  was  grow- 
ing chilly  with  moonlight ;  and  the  calf,  more  sensible 
than  the  mistress,  had  wandered  toward  the  stable. 
Still  she  sat  on  the  grass  by  the  gate  in  silence  and  a 
sort  of  wonder.  A  little  later,  the  miller's  voice  rang 
loud  and  strong  on  the  night-air,  calling  her  name. 
She  simply  replied  that  she  was  coming,  and  going 
to  the  stable,  made  it  fast,  shut  the  great  gate,  and 
entered  the  house.  The  miller  would  have  given 
a  good  bit  of  silver  —  a  whole  ruble  !  —  to  have 
known  her  thoughts;  and  had  she  known  it,  she 
would  not  have  sold  them  for  many  times  that.  It 
never  occurred  to  her ;  and  inadvertently  she  passed 
over  to  him,  without  charge,  all  the  information  that 
he  desired. 

"Are  noblemen  generally  so  elegant  and  fine?" 
she  asked. 

"  Noblemen  are  a  set  of  bloody  debauchees  ! "  he 

said  suddenly,  and  with  a  vehemence  that  made  the 

girl  tremble  ;    "  fine  enough  on  the  outside,  pretty  to 

look  at,  but  devils  —  black  devils  —  in  the   heart !  " 

5 


66  CASTLE    FOAM. 

And  he  ground  his  heel  into  the  smooth,  polished  floor 
with  a  determination  that  seemed  to  say,  "  That  set- 
tles it ! " 

The  prince  fancied  he  had  just  such  a  friend  in  the 
gray-haired,  gray-eyed  old  miller.  But  the  wind 
whistled  about  his  ears,  leaves  cut  his  face,  breath 
almost  failed  him,  and  soon  he  abandoned  his 
thoughts  of  the  miller  to  give  his  entire  attention  to 
that  wild  pony.  It  was  fortunate  he  had  of  himself 
chosen  the  right  path,  for  no  power  could  have 
turned  him  from  it  after  he  once  started.  He  ground 
the  bit  between  his  teeth,  and  literally  flew. 

"  How  under  heaven  can  such  a  child  ride  a  horse 
like  this !  "  exclaimed  the  prince,  only  at  intervals 
catching  his  breath.  "  Did  the  priest  Arantha  teach 
her?  Pony!  yes.  Merciful  heaven!  if  one  step 
should  fail  him." 

Perhaps  it  was  the  evident  force  of  this  argument, 
or  perhaps  the  existence  of  unexpected  surroundings, 
that  suddenly  brought  the  pony  to  a  position  as  mo- 
tionless as  the  Pompeian  bronzes  prancing  now  in 
the  piazza,  on  the  Bay  of  Naples. 

When  the  prince  became  satisfied  that  he  still  sat 
firmly  in  the  saddle,  he  glanced  about  him.  Five 
tents,  pointed  and  white,  rose  in  front.  The  pony's 
feet  trampled  the  outer  brands  of  a  smouldering 
camp-fire.  The  Round  Lake  sparkled  in  dimples  of 
white  over  a  smooth  black  surface  just  below.  The 
irregular  hills  were  softly  outlined  against  the  stars 
of  the  summer  night. 

"  Five  versts  already  !  "  said  the  rider  in  amaze- 
ment ;  "  I  should  not  have  thought  it  one."  Then  the 
rapid  clatter  of  other  hoofs  roused  him,  and  Major 


A    CLOUD-SHADOW    OVER    THE    OLD    MILL.  67 

Wolzonn,  the  first  of  the  four,  rode  into  the  open 
circle,  exclaiming,  "Welcome  to  camp  again,  my 
lord ;  though  you  passed  us  so  unceremoniously  a 
moment  ago.  We  were  starting  on  a  second  system- 
atic search  for  you." 

With  this  remark,  having  dismounted,  he  ap- 
proached the  borrowed  horse  and  laid  his  hand 
carelessly  on  the  animal's  shoulder,  then  started 
back,  went  closer  again,  walked  about  it,  stopped 
directly  in  front,  patted  its  nose,  remarked  in  a  quiet 
way  "Aha  !  "  to  which  in  a  moment  he  added,  under 
his  moustache,  "I  did  not  suppose  Arantha  was  within 
fifty  versts  of  here  ; "  and  aloud,  when  a  little  calmer, 
"  A  noble  land  you  must  have  found,  my  lord,  to 
afford  a  horse  like  this  ;  your  own  returned  a  hope- 
less sight,  —  the  bridle  broken,  the  tail  and  mane 
solid  with  burrs,  like  a  wild  ass  of  the  mountain." 

"  Slander  away,  friend,"  said  the  prince,  laughing, 
and  throwing  himself  on  the  grass  by  the  remnants  of  the 
camp-fire  ;  "  but  mind  you,  burrs  will  brush  out,  bri- 
dles will  mend,  tired  horses  will  rest  in  a  night,  and 
to-morrow  I'll  match  my  wild  ass  of  the  mountains 
against  any  horse  in  camp  except  this  new  one,  aye, 
even  Major  Wolzonn's."  . 

The  conveniently  uncertain  moonlight  hid  the  vari- 
ous moods  and  changes  plainly  expressed  in  the 
officer's  face,  or  the  prince  would  have  lost  his  merry 
mood  in  wonder.  As  it  was,  he  lay  upon  his  back, 
his  head  on  his  folded  hands,  blowing  wreaths  of 
smoke  into  the  still  air,  while  fairest  Erato  formed 
them  into  wonderful  castles,  with  strange,  romantic 
love-towers  at  every  angle;  and  now  and  then  he 
pressed  his  hand  upon  a  pocket  that  contained  a 


68  CASTLE    FOAM. 

small  journal,  in  which  he  had  deposited  the  linden 
leaf.  One  by  one  the  circle  about  the  fire  decreased, 
till  the  soldier  and  the  prince  were  alone.  Major 
Wolzonn  was  stroking  the  head  of  one  of  the  hounds, 
and  carelessly  observed,  "A  fine  horse  that,  my 
lord." 

"Eh?  — Yes— h,"  replied  Victor  Reppoun,  blow- 
ing one  of  those  long,  noncommunicative  puffs  of 
smoke  upward,  "too  fine  a  horse  for  me." 

The  soldier,  who  was  much  wider  awake,  continued 
more  quickly,  "  Is  there  a  village  hereabout,  my 
lord,  that  can  furnish  a  horse  too  fine  for  the  Prince 
von  Meerschaum  ?  " 

This  did  not  sound  like  Constantine  Wolzonn,  and 
Victor  Reppoun  was  on  the  point  of  sitting  up  to  see 
what  was  the  matter,  but  his  own  thoughts  were  too 
novel  and  agreeable.  Still  smoking,  he  replied,  "I 
borrowed  the  horse  of  a  —  of  an  old  man." 

"  Of  an  old  man  !  Strange  thing  for  an  old  man 
hereabout  to  own.  Is  he  a  hermit?" 

"Yes — h  —  oh,  yes,  a  hermit,  I  fancy;  that  is,  I 
mean,  a  miller." 

The  prince  rose,  as  if  struggling  with  drowsiness, 
and  despairing  of  any  more  quiet  by  the  fire,  added, 
"  But  really  —  he  waited  to  yawn  —  I  promised  to 
have  the  horse  back  again  by  noon  to-morrow,  which 
I  shall  not  wake  up  to  do  unless  I  go  to  bed." 

Reluctantly  the  major  yielded  to  necessity,  and  rose 
as  the  prince  left  the  fire  for  his  tent,  then  sat  down 
again  to  stroke  the  head  that  in  statu  quo  had  been 
waiting  his  return. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  him?"  he  asked  himself. 


A   CLOUD-SHADOW    OVER    THE    OLD    MILL.  69 

"Does  he  suspect  that  there  is  some  mystery  there? 
Is  it —  No,  no,  it  cannot  be,  so  soon." 

In  spite  of  this  conviction,  which  should  have  been 
sufficient  for  any  man  of  common  sense,  the  major  sat 
and  sat  and  sat.  Then  he  got  up  and  wandered 
into  the  woods,  so  far  that  he  startled  himself  lest  he 
had  lost  the  way  ;  then  down  on  the  shore  of  the  lake, 
tossing  pebbles  into  the  water,  in  vain  endeavor  to 
drive  away  some  sort  of  an  ugly  nightmare,  till  the 
moonlight  and  the  shadows  were  gone  from  the 
water,  and  the 'hills  became  more  clearly  outlined 
against  the  sky  that  was  graying  with  another  dawn- 
ing. 

He  found  himself  near  the  servants'  tents  and  the 
tethering-ground  of  the  horses,  sitting  on  a  mass  of 
gnarled  roots  that  were  thrown  out  of  the  ground, 
watching,  as  the  light  grew  more  certain,  the  grace- 
ful, restive  horse  that  already  was  pawing  the  ground 
and  neighing  his  disapproval  of  these  new  surround- 
ings. "He  said  it  was  a  hermit  who  lent  the  horse. 
Or  did  I  say  it?  I  hate  the  Prince  Reppoun  ! "  This 
was  as  bold  as  it  was  uncalled  for,  and  he  frightened 
himself  into  an  instant  apology,  adding,  "  I  don't  know 
why,  unless  because  every  one  else  admires  him,  and 
I  am  branded  by  a  spirit's  brotherhood  with  Ishmael. 
Those  dark  eyes  of  his  see  every  thing.  Have  they 
seen  any  more  than  a  hermit?  Seen  any  more  than 
a  horse  ?  Or  will  they  ?  " 

"  Well,  well,  friend  major  !  "  cried  the  deep,  manly 
voice  of  the  one  whom  he  hated.  "How  now?  Fares  it 
ill  with  your  health  or  your  conscience,  that  the  last  at 
night  and  the  first  in  the  morning  you  are  wide  awake?" 

The  major  attempted  to  rise.     His  overtaxed  nerves 


yo  CASTLE    FOAM. 

trembled  before  this  unintended  thrust,  and  he  fell 
back  heavily  against  the  tree.  But  he  startled  him- 
self more  than  the  prince,  who  scarcely  seemed  to 
notice  it.  Then  again  the  major  struggled  to  his  feet, 
and  lifting  his  hat,  endeavored  to  say  something  about 
early  roll-call  and  review  every  morning,  and  second 
nature,  but  made  abominably  poor  work  of  it.  The 
prince  was  preoccupied,  however,  and  the  major  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  those  brown  eyes  that  saw  every 
thing  had  already  seen  more  than  a  hermit,  and  more 
than  a  horse,  and  that  he  had  intended  an  extremely 
pointed  thrust  in  that  unpremeditated  good-morning. 
His  mouth  was  sullenly  closed  thereafter,  till  the 
prince  had  mounted  to  return  the  horse  ;  then  pleading 
a  sudden  call  to  return  to  the  capital,  which  he  credited 
to  official  letters  that  had  reached  them  the  day  before, 
he  took  his  immediate  portion  of  the  camping  furni- 
ture, and  hastily  left  for  St.  Petersburg.  He  traveled 
as  though  the  wolves  of  all  Poland  were  after  him. 

A  much  better  reply  to  the  good-morning  of  the 
prince  would  have  been  "the  same  to  you,"  for  Victor 
Reppoun  had  not  slept  long,  nor  over-well.  He  had 
had  hosts  of  curious  thoughts  keeping  him  awake; 
rambling,  random  thoughts  of  black  eyes,  rosy  lips, 
brown  cheeks,  masses  of  hair,  and  pretty  fingers; 
thoughts  punctuated  by  frowns  and  smiles,  shrugs  of 
the  shoulders,  arching  of  eyebrows,  bites  on  his  mous- 
tache, and  slaps  on  his  knee.  He  had  taken  the 
journal  from  his  pocket,  looked  long  and  earnestly  at 
the  linden  leaf;  wondered  how  it  were  possible  that 
Kathi  Chichkini  was  not  more  than  a  peasant,  or,  per- 
haps, but  a  serf;  declared  it  was  simply  impossible  ! 
that  she  was  an  angel  out  of  heaven ;  looked  again  at 


A    CLOUD-SHADOW    OVER    THE    OLD    MILL.  71 

the  linden  leaf,  much  as  Cleopatra  watched  the  ser- 
pent, little  thinking  how  like  Cleopatra's  pet  this  leafy 
idol  might  become  if  made  an  altar  for  too  long  and 
earnest  sacrifice  to  something  in  it  and  beyond  it. 

Oh,  we  labor  hard  upon  our  idols  !  By  the  sweat  of 
our  brows  we  carve  the  marble.  Beautiful  rises  our 
ideal,  and  every  hammer-stroke  imbeds  an  atom  of 
our  own  existence  into  its  grooves  and  ovals.  We  set 
it  on  high  upon  a  noble  pedestal.  We  drape  it  with 
a  robe  more  precious  than  the  golden-threaded  fabric 
Shah  Jahan  threw  over  Banco  Begum.  A  web  of 
immortal  hours,  ruthlessly  torn  from  the  narrow  limits 
of  our  lives,  we  wrap  about  it.  Talents  lent  upon 
usury  we  lay  in  a  napkin  under  the  feet  of  our  god- 
dess. Then  falling  on  our  knees  to  the  ideal,  we  cry, 
"  Lo  !  here  I  am  !  all  that  there  is  in  me  rests  on  this 
pedestal !  Oh,  my  life,  live  !  Oh,  my  love,  come  to 
me  !  Open  those  arms,  that  from  this  burning  fever 
with  which  my  brain  was  tortured  while  I  wrought,  I 
may  rest,  rest,  rest  in  them  ! " 

And  sometimes  it  is  answered.  Our  excited  vision 
beholds  the  mirage  of  our  dream  reflected  in  a  hu- 
man form.  The  ideal  moves  before  us.  Madly  we 
fly  to  embrace — what?  The  real  that  moves,  ready 
to  love  and  live  and  labor,  life  and  life,  with  us?  No  ! 
Our  ideal,  that  we  at  infinite  cost  have  builded. 
Hence  many  a  sorrow,  many  a  wasted  life.  The 
quails  were  bitter  to  the  hosts  of  Israel.  We  find  an 
imperfection  here  and  there.  In  angry  disappoint- 
ment we  then  cry,  "  I  have  been  deceived  !  This  is 
not  what  I  asked  for,  not  what  I  labored  for,  not  what 
I  wanted."  Because  we  were  looking  then  at  —  what  ? 
Only  our  own  ideal,  and  would  not  see  the  real  to 


>j2  CASTLE    FOAM. 

undeceive  ourselves.  What  then?  We  crush  the  lily 
we  have  picked,  and  from  its  depth  glides  a  tarantula 
to  fasten  on  our  hand.  We  cast  away  the  rod  we 
have  selected,  and  as  it  falls,  like  Moses',  it  becomes 
a  serpent  to  coil  in  our  bosoms  ever  afterward. 

But  Victor  Reppoun  was  in  no  mood  to  moralize. 
He  placed  the  date  beneath  the  linden  leaf,  wrote 
"  In  memoriam"  and  with  a  smile  replaced  the  jour- 
nal in  his  pocket. 

It  was  already  becoming  a  precious  little  thing 
to  the  cold-hearted  Prince  von  Meerschaum.  He 
drew  out  a  tiny  medallion  that  hung  by  a  light  gold 
chain  about  his  neck  and  lay  upon  his  breast.  It 
was  a  lady's  face,  a  wonderfully  sweet  face  in  min- 
iature, set  in  a  circle  of  diamonds.  "  What  a  simi- 
larity !"  he  said,  holding  it  close  under  the  little  flame 
that  flickered  in  a  silver  vase  of  oil,  representing 
the  sacred  lotos  that  is  supposed  to  have  been  the 
torch  of  the  gods  in  the  old  mythic  days  upon  the 
Nile.  He  pressed  the  medallion  to  his  lips,  whisper- 
ing a  name  too  softly,  a  name  too  precious  to  be  heard 
on  earth,  and  replaced  it.  Then  bowing  to  the  earth 
before  a  small  crucifix,  with  our  Lord  in  agony  painted 
upon  gold,  he  performed,  not  without  a  warm  and 
earnest  faith,  the  full  duty  of  a  Greek  Catholic,  and 
fell  upon  his  tent-bed  with  cleaner  hands  and  a  purer 
heart  than  many  to  be  found  in  Russia  a  half  cen- 
tury ago. 

"Those  were  the  prettiest,  sweetest  lips  I  ever 
saw,"  he  whispered  drowsily.  "I  wish  — "  But  what 
he  wished  only  his  dreams  determined,  and  he  was 
still  dreaming  when  at  the  earliest  daylight  the  neigh- 
ing of  the  borrowed  horse  recalled  him  from  the 


A    CLOUD-SHADOW    OVER    THE    OLD    MILL.  73 

pleasures  of  dream-land  to  the  pleasures  of  real-land, 
and  he  went  out  to  find  the  major  in  the  very  act  of 
cursing  him. 

It  was  a  full  hour  before  the  time  appointed  when 
he  drew  rein  at  the  mill,  saluted  the  miller,  and 
returned  the  borrowed  pony.  With  no  reason  to 
refuse,  he  accepted  an  invitation  to  drink  tea,  and 
entered  the  low,  rudely  furnished  front  room  of  the 
miller's  isba  for  the  favorite  cup.  The  samovar, 
smoking  and  steaming,  was  put  on  the  table  by  a 
gaunt  but  not  unkindly  woman,  who  also  served  it. 
The  prince  had  hoped  that  Kathi  Chichkini  might  do 
that. 

The  isba  was  rude  enough,  though  a  strong  and 
comfortable  affair ;  but  even  in  the  arrangement  of 
the  stools  and  tables  about  the  room,  and  the  hanging 
of  little  curtains  behind  the  heavy  shutters,  most 
effectually  spoke  of  a  love  existing  there  for  better 
things  than  could  be  found  in  an  old  mill  in  Poland. 
But  where  was  the  lover?  Surely  the  gaunt  woman 
serving  boiling  tea  had  no  such  refinement ;  and  the 
prince  looked  again  for  Kathi  Chichkini.  She  did 
not  come ;  and  when  the  clock,  hanging  directly 
opposite  him,  where  he  could  watch  with  torturing 
patience  each  swing  of  the  long  pendulum,  had 
counted  off  ninety  times  sixty  in  its  ticking,  he  began 
to  realize  that  he  had  come  upon  a  fool's  errand  and 
would  better  have  sent  his  valet  with  the  horse,  instead 
of  having  him  ride  behind  with  two.  It  was  evident- 
ly a  great  relief  to  the  miller,  whom  he  had  vainly 
endeavored  to  question,  when  he  complimented  the 
gaunt  woman  on  her  tea  and  rolls,  and  took  his 
departure. 


74  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"He  is  unnaturally  careful  of  the  girl,"  the  prince 
thought,  as  he  mounted  his  own  horse  at  the  door  and 
rode  away  without  so  much  as  being  asked  to  come 
again.  But  after  riding  half  a  mile  he  dismissed  his 
valet,  and  turning  sharp  to  the  left,  circled  the  mill, 
and  reached  the  brook  and  the  wild  arbor  by  the 
lake.  Everything  whispered  of  her  there  as  else- 
where, but  nothing  more ;  and  after  waiting,  search- 
ing, and  dreaming,  till  thoroughly  weary  of  it,  and 
possibly  vexed  withal,  he  turned  away,  shrugging 
his  shoulders.  No  one  had  ever  kept  out  of  his  way 
before ;  yet,  strangely  enough,  this  only  added  fuel 
to  the  fire,  and  fixed  more  firmly  in  his  heart  a  curi- 
ous fancy  for  Kathi  Chichkini. 

"  Retreating  slow,  with  oft  embarrassed  pause, 
Forming  with  restless  hands,  unconsciously, 
Blank  accident !  Nothing's  anomaly." 

The  major  need  not  have  trembled  as  he  did,  for 
surely  there  was  not  a  man  of  the  company  who  re- 
gretted his  departure  more  than  the  prince,  when  he 
heard  of  it  after  returning  from  the  mill. 

"The  major  is  an  odd  fellow,"  he  said,  "  and  always 
seems  unhappy ;  but,  after  all,  a  better  man  at  heart 
than  Major  Wolzonn  one  might  seek  far  to  find." 

The  days  went  more  slowly  after  his  departure,  for 
in  a  quiet  and  solemn  way  he  had  done  much  more  to 
brighten  them  than  his  friends  had  realized.  Victor 
Reppoun  was  particularly  glad  their  hunting-time  was 
drawing  to  a  close,  for  he  was  becoming  thoroughly 
vexed  with  himself  at  the  powerlessness  with  which 
he  yielded  once,  twice,  three  times,  and  searched 
again  for  the  spirit  of  the  lake  by  the  mill,  though 
each  time  added  to  the  number  of  failures. 


A  CLOUD-SHADOW  OVER  THE  OLD  MILL.     75 

The  fourth  time  he  looked  in  upon  the  arbor ;  the 
fourth  time  he  found  it  empty  ;  the  fourth  time  he 
rode  down  to  the  lake,  and  that  was  unrippled  by  an 
oar.  His  horse  stopped  to  drink.  The  water  was 
low  from  the  bank,  and  the  horse  in  stretching  his 
neck  drew  the  rein  from  the  rider's  fingers ;  he  sprang 
forward,  caught  them  in  time  to  save  a  repetition  of 
his  former  misfortune,  and  — 

"  Oh,  please,  sire,  don't ! "  exclaimed  a  clear,  sweet 
voice,  that  had  been  ringing  in  his  ears  for  a  half 
month  and  more.  She  had  been  hidden  by  a  clump 
of  bushes,  having  just  stepped  from  her  little  boat. 
In  one  hand  she  held  the  dripping  boat-cord,  in  the 
other  her  push-off  pole. 

"I  have  found  you  at  last,  ma  petite!"  he  cried, 
dismounting. 

"Dear  me!  I  thought  you'd  lost  your  way  again, 
and  were  going  to  jump  into  the  water." 

"  Rather,  lady,  I  have  found  my  way  to  your  hiding- 
place."  He  bent  forward  to  kiss  her  hand. 

Quick  as  thought  she  dropped  the  push-off  pole, 
hid  her  hand  under  her  apron,  gave  his  extended 
fingers  a  sharp  cut  with  the  boat-cord,  made  a  merry 
courtesy,  and  explained :  "  Please,  sire,  it  might  not 
be  just  clean,  you  know."  And  she  shook  her  head, 
and  laughed  at  him. 

For  one  moment  at  least,  in  the  course  of  his  life, 
the  Prince  von  Meerschaum  was  at  a  loss  for  words. 

"  Don't  you  see,  sire  ?  "  she  asked  a  moment  later, 
looking  up  as  though  she  half  enjoyed  the  thought 
that  she  had  offended  him. 

He  laughed  outright  as  he  answered  :  "  I  think  I 
both  see  and  feel.  But  come  now,  little  one,  make 


76  CASTLE    FOAM. 

up  for  this.  Sit  down  here.  I'll  not  kiss  your  hand, 
and  you'll  not  strike  me.  But  tell  me  about  the  books 
you've  read,  and  what  you'd  like  to  read,  and  when 
I  go  back  to  St.  Petersburg  I'll  send  you  a  fresh  sup- 

Pb'-" 

"I  don't  mind  that,"  said  the  girl  lightly,  fastening 

her  boat-line,  then  sitting  on  the  moss  and  grass  while 
the  prince  lay  at  her  feet,  —  pretty,  slender  feet,  and  so 
unlike  the  feet  of  Polish  peasant  girls,  even  cased  in 
tiny  shoes  that  were  almost  delicate,  and  pretty  pink 
stockings.  For  two  hours  they  hardly  moved ;  and 
if,  before,  the  prince  had  wondered  that  she  knew  so 
much  of  what  he  had  learned,  he  wondered  now  that 
he  knew  so  little  of  many  things  upon  which  she  was 
well  informed,  till  in  his  admiration  he  wholly  forgot 
that  the  forest's  child  was  but  a  peasant  girl,  or  per- 
haps only  a  serf. 

Ah,  how  many  times  our  fairest  Vestal  Virgins  for- 
get to  drink  of  that  fountain  of  perpetual  youth,  and, 
like  the  Briganta  Spendereccia  of  Siena,  are  too 
prodigal  indeed  of  what  they  have,  throwing  their 
golden  glories  into  the  street  from  the  windows,  to 
attract  at  random  any  passer-by,  nor  stop  to  consider 
that,  Briganta-like,  famine,  dearth,  and  empty  coffers 
will  ere  long  be  displayed  by  nakedness  !  Blessed  is 
that  woman,  and  crowned  with  life-long  adoration  by 
the  man  she  loves,  who,  though  her  silks  be  calico 
and  her  diamonds  dew,  is  yet  possessed  of  that  magic 
cruse  and  priceless  wine,  a  common-sense  education, 
lavishing  from  which  impoverisheth  not ! 

Leaving  the  world  of  books  and  ancients,  they 
wandered  to  the  present.  Then  came  the  time  for 
the  prince  to  speak,  and  the  brunette  cheeks  flushed, 


A    CLOUD-SHADOW    OVER    THE    OLD    MILL.  77 

and  the  black  eyes  shone,  and  the  raven  hair  fell  in 
careless  beauty  wherever  a  chance  gust  left  it,  as  she 
listened  to  the  glowing  stories  of  the  wide,  wide  world 
and  of  its  golden  glories. 

"Dear  me!"  she  cried,  when  he  paused  for  a  mo- 
ment. "  How  I  have  longed  to  see  the  beautiful  world 
you  know  so  well  !  And  do  you  live  in  a  palace  ?  " 

"In  a  castle  —  a  cream-white  castle  —  a  little  way 
beyond  the  city  to  the  north,"  he  said. 

"That's  very  like  a  story-book,  isn't  it,  sire  ?" 

"And  the  loveliest  chapter  of  all  is  the  living  there," 
added  the  prince,  with  a  low  laugh. 

"That  is  odd,"  said  the  girl,  looking  into  his  up- 
turned face  with  a  smile  that  he  thought  angelic. 

"What  is  odd,  my  lady?" 

"The  way  you  are  looking  at  me."  And  though 
that  was  not  precisely  what  she  had  intended,  it  an- 
swered the  purpose  very  well,  for  while  she  had  been 
gazing  upward  into  the  thick  shelter  of  forest-leaves, 
or  through  them  into  visions  of  the  enchanted  world 
that  seemed  to  her  nothing  but  glory  and  joy,  a  list- 
less,-longing,  dreaming  shadow,  touched  with  matu- 
rity, overspread  her  face,  —  a  shadow  of  womanhood 
in  the  warm  summer  fields  of  girlhood.  Just  as  her 
eyes  fell  till  they  met  his  own,  Victor  Reppoun  had 
whispered,  "Oh,  how  heavenly  beautiful!"  That 
was  what  she  meant  as  odd,  and  so  indeed  it  was. 
But  the  prince  made  no  answer ;  he  hardly  heard. 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  her  merry  laugh 
waked  the  hushed  woodland  into  echoes.  The  spell 
was  broken. 

"I  —  I  beg  your  pardon,  lady,  a  thousand  times. 
I  —  " 


78  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"  Dear  me,  you  frightened  me  ! " 

"Did  I  ?"  he  asked;  and  she  looked  down  again, 
as  if  expecting  another  fright,  for  his  voice  was  so 
strangely  soft  and  low,  yet  clear  and  penetrating  to 
her  very  heart,  which  leaped  like  a  startled  doe  be- 
fore the  hunter.  She  fancied  it  must  be  sweet  as  the 
voice  of  the  proconsul  Claudius  whispering  to  the 
Druid  priestess  in  the  sacred  grove  under  the  holy 
moon.  "I  could  not  choose  but  look  at  you,  you  re- 
mind me  so  perfectly  of  a  very  near,  very  dear  friend 
of  mine,  long  ago  gone  up  yonder,  [he  crossed  him- 
self,] whose  name  is  sacred,  and  whose  picture  I 
could  worship  by  that  Santo  Volto  in  the  cathedral  of 
Lucca,  though  the  crafty  priests  say  truly  that  Nico- 
demus  himself  cut  it  from  memory  of  that  eventful 
night.  See,  this  is  the  picture  ! "  He  drew  the  me- 
dallion from  about  his  neck,  bowed  his  head  rever- 
ently, crossed  himself,  and  whispered,  "Angel  mother 
mine  !  —  She  was  a  Dane.  Oh,  how  I  loved  her  !  My 
very  life  went  out  with  hers.  Had  she  lived  in  the 
land  of  Brahma,  my  greatest  joy  would  have  been  to  lie 
upon  her  funeral  pyre.  Years  have  veiled  the  bitter- 
ness, and  another  life,  phoenix-like,  came  up  from  the 
ashes  to  take  possession  of  me  —  a  cold,  heartless  life, 
far  more  truly  than  the  expression  means  to-day,  '  un 
cceur  glace?  Fairest,  truest,  purest  of  women,  not 
time  nor  eternity  can  efface  her  image  from  my  heart. 
Oh,  that  I  could  but  emulate  her  loveliness  of  char- 
acter !  " 

Kathi  Chichkini  bowed  low  over  the  medallion.  "I 
should  think,  sire,  you  might  well  have  loved  her ; " 
and  flush  answered  to  flush,  outline  to  outline,  eye  to 
eye,  till  one  seemed  mirrored  from  the  other  through 


A    CLOUD-SHADOW    OVER    THE    OLD    MILL.          79 

the  mists  of  half  a  lifetime.  w  She  seems  to  remind 
me,  too,  of  some  one  of  long  ago,"  she  added ;  "but  I 
am  a  Dane,  and  possibly  that  is  all." 

And  the  prince  said  to  himself,  in  an  exclamation 
literally  fraught  with  amazement,  "And  God  forgive 
me  !  this  heart  that  never  since  has  loved  a  lady, 
loves  this  counterpart  of  that  medallion.  Oh,  bitter 
curse  of  being  noble,  that  one  cannot  love  and  marry 
but  under  the  brand  of  a  title  ! "  And  aloud,  yet  not 
aloud,  he  repeated  the  Polish  serenade : 

"The  consummate  of  human  bliss, 
The  joy  of  heaven  on  earth  were  this : 
To  win  from  lips  so  fair,  so  free, 
The  boundless,  endless  luxury 
Born  with  a  kiss;  " 

and,  as  the  soft  echo  died  away,  that  curious,  irresist- 
ible silence  fell  over  all.  The  air  seemed  heavy  with 
the  incense  of  Eros.  The  beautiful  face  was  again 
absorbed  in  thought,  and  bent  over  the  medallion. 
The  temptation  was  not  an  instant  old  when  yielded 
to.  She  dropped  the  medallion,  springing  to  her 
feet.  He  rose  from  his  knees,  actually  trembling  as 
he  remembered  his  promise,  and  wondered  where  the 
chastisement  would  be  applied  this  time. 

"Well,  that  was  odd  !  "  said  she. 

"And  what  was  odd?"  he  asked. 

"  I  thought  you  were  talking  to  the  medallion." 

"And  so  I  was." 

"And  kissing  me?" 

"And  kissing  you." 

"Well,  that  was  odd,  wasn't  it,  sire?" 

But  before  he  could  answer,  every  feature  of  the 
little  face  had  changed.  She  started  like  a  mountain 


80  CASTLE    FOAM. 

chamois  on  the  rugged  Jungfrau  when  a  foot  falls  too 
heavily  on  the  glacier  of  Griindelwald,  or  a  cracking 
grass-stem,  furlongs  off,  betrays  a  hunter. 

"  Hear  that !  "  she  whispered.  "  Papa  the  miller  is 
pushing  off  his  boat  to  come  and  look  for  me." 

Prince  Reppoun  struggled  in  vain  to  catch  the 
faintest  sound,  though  a  shudder  crossing  the  girl's 
face  told  him  the  searcher  was  unwelcome ;  and  all 
the  strange  incidents  came  back  in  an  instant,  as, 
muttering,  "There  is  some  mystery  there,"  he  placed 
himself  between  her  and  the  lake. 

"He  will  not  hurt  me,"  she  said  scornfully,  answer- 
ing the  movement.  "  I've  a  good  friend  close  by  who 
would  tear  him  all  to  pieces  if  he  touched  a  single 
hair.  I  call  him  Cerberus,  not  because  he  has  three 
heads,  but  because  he  is  a  dog ;  and  I  love  him  as 
much  as  if  he  had  fifty." 

Quick  as  thought  two  little  brown  fingers  were 
pressed  hard  upon  two  rosy  lips,  and  a  shrill,  piercing 
whistle  shot  across  the  lake.  An  instant,  and  a  dis- 
tant bark  announced  that  Cerberus  was  on  the  path. 

"Hear  that!"  and  her  eyes  were  radiant  with  the 
triumph  of  pride  in  the  possession  of  that  humble, 
powerful  friend. 

"And  is  there  nothing,  child,  that  /can  do?"  asked 
the  Prince  von  Meerschaum,  reluctant  to  be  thus  set 
aside  for  a  one-headed  Cerberus. 

"  Oh,  yes  indeed,  sire ;  you  can  go  away." 

"  I  cannot."  He  stepped  forward  as  a  gallant  de- 
fender should.  "  I  will  —  " 

"  Please,  sire,  you  will  break  my  push-off  pole  ;  and 
I  had  much  rather  you  would  go  away.  He  thinks 
Russian  noblemen  are  a  terrible  set,  that  do  nothing 


A    CLOUD-SHADOW    OVER    THE    OLD    MILL.  8l 

but  murder  and  rob,  and  everything  bad  and  nothing 
good  ;  and  I  don't  know  but  they  are." 

This  she  said  with  such  a  laugh  as  he  had  seen 
when  she  had  nearly  upset  him  on  the  lake  —  a 
merry,  malicious,  meaning  laugh,  that  made  him 
grind  his  teeth  and  love  her  all  the  more. 

"Then  I  go  because  you  send  me,"  he  said,  turn- 
ing to  mount ;  "  but  tell  me  first  that  I  may  see  you 
again." 

"  If  you  look  where  I  am,  you  will  be  sure  to  see 
me  any  time." 

"And  to-morrow,  and  here?" 

"Please,  sire,  I  tell  you  he  will  lock  me  in  my  room 
for  a  month  if  he  knows  you  have  been  here ;  and  by 
this  time  he  can  hear  your  voice,  I  think." 

It  was  under  a  strange  conflict  of  inclinations  that 
he  rode  away.  At  the  last  moment  he  turned  his 
head  she  was  still  watching  him.  The  little  brown 
fingers  touched  the  rosy  lips  and  tossed  away  a  fare- 
well kiss  that  had  been  waiting  there ;  then  such  a 
peal  of  merry  laughter  sounded  that  he  dashed  the 
rowels  deep  into  the  black  sides  beneath  him,  mutter- 
ing, "  She  has  been  playing  with  me,  and  laughs  to 
think  of  the  fool  she  has  seen  me  make  myself! " 

The  horse  leaped  forward  under  the  argument.  A 
huge  dark  mass  came  whirling  toward  him,  in  a  literal 
cloud  of  leaves  and  moss  and  sticks,  that  left  the  mo- 
tive power  within  hardly  recognizable.  The  horse  was 
going  too  fast  to  turn  or  stop,  and  sprang  directly 
over  it,  while  Cerberus,  from  the  midst  of  it,  gave 
a  low  growl. 

The  Prince  Reppoun,  provoked  by  the  curious  fare- 
well that  after  all  was  but  a  happy  freak  of  the  child, 
6 


82  CASTLE    FOAM. 

and,  by  an  odd  application,  saved  her  being  locked  in 
her  room  for  the  month,  went  back  to  St.  Petersburg 
without  once  more  visiting  the  lake.  Kathi  Chich- 
kini  gave  him  just  one  opportunity  to  have  seen  her 
if  he  would.  All  the  next  day  she  spent  very  near 
the  spot  where  they  parted.  Then  she  too  became 
angry,  and  wondered  if  "  Papa,  the  miller."  was  right, 
and  avoided  the  spot  till  it  was  reported  that  the  party 
of  hunters  had  gone  from  the  Round  Lake. 

If  one  may  think  that  Kathi  Chichkini  did  not  care 
whether  he  came  or  not,  they  will  be  vastly  mistaken  ; 
yet,  after  all,  she  of  the  two  was  the  more  sensible. 
Not  even  the  miller  suspected  that  she  had  a  thought 
of  him  till  a  box  of  books  reached  the  mill  from  some 
unknown  source  in  St.  Petersburg,  and  his  sharp  eyes 
read  her  heart.  The  books  were  all  new,  purchased, 
doubtless,  and  packed  at  a  bookstore,  (there  were 
several  such  now  opened  at  the  capital,  though  when 
Paul's  hand  fell  dead  from  the  scepter  not  one  book- 
stand was  to  be  found  in  his  entire  domain;)  and 
though  the  miller  could  not  read  a  word,  he  scanned 
each  volume  carefully,  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  no 
harm  could  come,  and  let  his  daughter  read.  No 
message  came  with  the  books  ;  but  at  least  the  noble- 
man had  kept  his  word,  and  Kathi  Chichkini  had  no 
thought  of  asking  any  more.  Possibly  he  too  would 
come  again  some  day.  Surely  she  hoped  he  would ; 
and  as  hour  after  hour  swept  rapidly  away,  beguiled 
by  the  entertaining  volumes,  she  found  oftener  and 
oftener  his  face  woven  into  the  story,  and  that  from 
the  medallion  even  closer  and  clearer  appearing  with 
every  page.  They  were  two  faces  that  grew  into  her 
heart,  and  rooted  themselves  there  as  firmly  as  life  itself. 


AT    THE    MOUTH    OF    HELL.  83 


CHAPTER   IX. 

A  SUMMER  ENDING  AT  THE  MOUTH  OF  HELL. 

WHAT  gloomy  times  those  are  !  hours  in  every 
life  that's  lived,  when  mole-hills,  too  many  of 
them,  become  ragged  and  high  mountains,  and  we 
settle  down  into  the  opinion  that  for  one  cause  or  an- 
other we  are  of  all  men  most  miserable. 

As  the  Countess  von  KramarefF's  daughter  had  so 
sweetly  warned  Albrecht  von  Bremen  at  the  ball,  they 
had  spent  the  summer,  so  much  of  it  as  had  gone  by, 
on  the  beautiful  shores  of  Lake  Liman,  under  the 
watchful  eye  of  hoary  Mont  Blanc. 

At  first  the  young  countess  had  thought  herself 
particularly  fortunate  in  thus  securing  a  devoted  lover 
for  the  season,  and  the  undoubted  refusal  of  a  husband 
in  the  Fall ;  and  she  was  quite  of  the  opinion  that 
she  should  be  satisfied.  The  aged  mother  was  very 
agreeable,  as  a  high  official  had  introduced  the  Count 
Albrecht  von  Bremen  to  her  house.  His  title  was 
good  enough,  though  none  too  high.  He  appeared  to 
have  gold,  though  for  that  her  daughter  too  had 
enough  for  both.  She  was,  in  fact,  too  happy  to  find 
that  her  daughter  had  apparently  settled  on  something 
a  little  lower  than  the  very  high  ambition  she  had 
warned  her  against,  to  make  any  objection  whatever. 
People  are  apt  to  go  to  extremes  too,  and  from  guard- 


84  CASTLE    FOAM. 

ing  her  child  so  scrupulously  till  now,  the  daughter 
was  suddenly  allowed  much  more  freedom  than  is 
generally  granted  in  Russia.  Hence  the  Dane  von 
Bremen  had  a  very  satisfactory  time  of  it,  warmed  and 
encouraged  by  the  mother's  approval  and  the  daugh- 
ter's good  will.  There  came  a  time,  however,  when 
a  hotel  proprietor  addressed  a  little  note  to  Madame  the 
Countess,  asking  if  her  daughter  were  actually  to 
marry  the  Count  Albrecht  von  Bremen,  and  if  she 
were  to  hold  herself  responsible  for  the  present  bills 
he  was  contracting.  The  countess's  eyes  were  alto- 
gether beyond  reading,  so  that  this,  with  all  other  let- 
ters, fell  into  the  daughter's  hands.  It  was  not  hard  to 
make  apologies  to  herself  for  this  first  variance  from 
what  might  have  been  expected,  yet  the  countess's 
daughter  was  tender-hearted,  as  may  be  remembered, 
on  the  subject  of  her  mother's  gold.  Still  it  was  only 
a  first  rebuff,  and  gradually  wore  away,  though  the 
letter  was  never  answered,  and  Albrecht  von  Bremen 
soon  announced  that  he  had  changed  his  hotel,  which, 
for  all  its  fine  title,  he  found  "  a  very  uncomfortable 
place."  The  countess  wondered  why? 

There  came  another  blow,  however,  shortly  after- 
ward, and  my  lady  lay  upon  a  couch,  one  afternoon,  in 
a  richly  furnished  apartment,  moaning,  and  thinking 
herself  of  all  the  world  most  miserable.  She  was  quite 
alone.  She  would  have  smiled  had  even  her  nurse 
Elise  been  present,  because,  forsooth,  she  was  all  that 
was  left  of  the  house  of  Kramareff,  and  she  proposed 
to  w  honor  it  as  it  should  be  honored,"  and  not  to  cry 
at  trifles  such  as  this. 

The  afternoon  was  not  far  spent  when  the  usual 
caller  was  announced.  A  moment  sufficed  to  wipe 


AT    THE    MOUTH    OF    HELL.  85 

from  her  face  every  expression  unbecoming  in  the 
daughter  of  old  General  and  Count  von  Kramareff, 
and  she  swept  into  her  mother's  apartment  with  a 
stately  grace  that  rested  well  upon  her  lovely  form. 
The  countess  had  not  yet  finished  her  after-coffee  nap, 
but  the  rustle  of  her  daughter's  dress  awoke  her. 
The  young  woman,  kneeling  hastily,  kissed  her  moth- 
er, as  was  well,  but  without  further  waiting  sprang 
angrily  upon  the  subject  burning  in  her  heart,  flush- 
ing her  cheeks,  and  lighting  her  eyes  .with  a  most 
unnatural  fire. 

"Mother  !  "  she  said,  "the  Count  von  Bremen  calls 
again  ;  "  and  the  title  was  wound  about  in  a  bitter  cir- 
cumflex. "Now,  mother,  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of 
you,  and  I  beg  with  all  my  heart  that  you  will  grant 
it  without  a  word." 

"What  is  it,  my  daughter?" 

"That  I  may  speak  to  him  alone;  and  as  soon  as 
you  can  well,  leave  us." 

The  countess  held  up  her  trembling  hands  in  hor- 
ror, and  solemnly  answered,  "  Never !  "  .  That  might 
have  settled  it ;  but  almost  immediately  she  dropped 
from  the  high  pitch  of  tragedy  to  add,  "Is  it  not 
enough  that  he  should  ask  me  if  he  desire  you,  with- 
out bursting  every  limit  of  refinement  to  hear  him 
yourself  ? " 

"  Aye  !  and  what  if  I  would  not  myself,  nor  yet 
have  you  accept  that  man  while  I  have  breath  to 
breathe  a  '  NO  ' !  Ah  !  he  is  a  villain  !  a  villain  of  the 
very  deepest  dye,  mother."  Her  hands,  that  clasped 
her  mother's,  trembled  with  anger ;  her  eyes  were 
burning  scorn. 


86  CASTLE   FOAM. 

"  Child,  I  am  old,"  said  her  mother,  "  speak  slowly. 
I  do  not  understand." 

"  Mother  !  "  she  cried,  more  excitedly  than  before, 
"  I  hardly  understand  myself.  But  this  much  I  know : 
this  Albrecht  von  Bremen  is  no  more  a  count  than  I 
a  queen.  He  is  little  if  any  better  than  a  miserable 
lying  pauper." 

"  Child,  are  you  sure  of  what  you  say  ?  " 

"Aye,  mother,  I  know  it,  every  word." 

"Then,  how  can  you  wish  to  see  him  at  all,  much 
less  to  be  left  alone  with  him?  " 

"  Ah  !  but  I  burn  to  tell  him  that  I  know  it,  and  bid 
him  forever  to  be  gone  !  " 

"You  are  headstrong,  child.  Have  you  measured 
your  thoughts  ?  " 

"Aye,  mother  dear,  and  know  my  will  and  the 
result  of  it.  Come  !  let  us  have  it  over  with." 

Obeying,  rather  than  yielding,  the  mother  took  her 
daughter's  arm,  and,  a  curiously  stately  pair,  they 
entered  the  salon. 

Now  Albrecht  von  Bremen  was  fascinating  to  a 
dangerous  degree,  and  during  this  summer  he  had 
exerted  every  faculty  to  make  that  danger  as  potent 
as  possible.  He  was  dove-like,  but  he  was  serpent- 
like  too,  as  my  lady  had  discovered,  —  one  in  appear- 
ance, the  other  in  heart.  In  fact,  we  are  all  of  us 
more  or  less  triangular.  One  side  of  us  we  see  our- 
selves, another  side  we  show  to  our  neighbor,  and  a 
truer  side  than  either  He  sees  who  looks  through  the 
outward  appearance  on  the  heart.  Among  other 
additions  which  Albrecht  von  Bremen  had  made  to 
the  fascinations  he  offered  was  the  sounding  brass  of 
"  Count !  "  This  he  did  without  either  leave  or  invita- 


AT    THE    MOUTH    OF    HELL.  87 

tion,  though  very  much  against  the  general  usages  of 
society  ;  but  even  this  he  dared  to  do,  and  patted  himself 
upon  the  back  with  the  motto,  "  Only  the  brave  deserve 
the  fair,"  in  its  original  from  the  Tartar  serfs  of  Russia. 
"  Fortune's  wheel  is  always  turning,"  he  also  repeated 
many  times,  and  of  late  had  fallen  into  the  habit  con- 
gratulatory of  adding,  "And  now,  my  boy,  all  your 
life  in  the  sky  vaults  and  cellars  is  ending,  ending  in 
the  wealth  of  a  beautiful  countess."  And  who  shall  say 
that  a  man  who  is  an  exquisite  villain  may  not  yet  fall 
deeply  and  tenderly  in  love,  even  though  gold  were 
the  magnet  that  drew  him  on  ?  Shortly  after  the  ladies 
had  appeared  in  the  salon,  and  the  Dane  had 
presented  himself  to  them,  in  a  momentary  lull  the 
countess's  daughter,  fearing  her  mother  might  yet 
have  repented  the  half  promise,  made  a  pretext  of 
music  in  the  street  below  to  go  to  the  deep  window- 
seat  at  the  end  of  the  room,  where  the  Dane  was  only 
too  ready  to  follow  her,  expecting  in  the  course  of 
things  that  the  mother  would  follow  too. 

"What  a  soft  air  this  the  gods  are  granting  us!" 
he  said,  —  M  soft,  very  soft." 

"  Indeed  it  is,  Monsieur  Count,"  said  my  lady. 
"  One  might  almost  think  it  the  sweet  breath  of  Circe 
wafted  from  Aesea,  so  soft,  so  enchanting,  so  magical 
in  changing  everything,  as  it  seems." 

"  In  changing  everything?  "  The  Dane  sought  the 
depths  of  her  dark  eyes  for  a  meaning,  but  they 
smiled  on  him  as  though  Circe  herself  were  looking 
down.  He  was  right.  A  guilty  conscience  discovers 
quickly  such  a  point.  She  had  intended  to  open  her 
attack  with  it,  and  only  waited  his  reply  to  check- 
mate in  just  three  deadly  moves.  But  the  Dane 


88  CASTLE    FOAM. 

noticed  that  the  lady's  mother  had  left  the  room,  and 
delayed  the  game  a  little  by  inquiring  : 

"  Is  —  er  —  is  she  ill  ?  " 

"No,  Monsieur  Count;  I  desired  it." 

"You  —  er  —  you  desired  it  ?  "  The  Dane  had  al- 
ready forgotten  his  momentary  suspicion.  His  face 
was  wreathed  in  smiles. 

"I  did  desire  it."  She  answered  in  a  way  that  once 
more  placed  the  game  in  a  position  to  proceed. 

"  You  —  er  —  you  —  I  do  not  understand  you,  lady  ; 
do  not  understand." 

"Then,  to  be  more  explicit,"  said  the  lady,  "by 
what  authority  are  you  a  wealthy  count,  —  beggar ! 
Albrecht  von  Bremen  ?  " 

He  groaned  in  response  to  this,  much  as  Schicchi 
du  Cavalcanti  groaned  in  the  face  of  Dante,  charged 
with  a  similar  crime,  and  for  the  first  time  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  countess's  daughter  he  hung  his  hands  by 
his  thumbs  in  the  pockets  of  his  pantaloons,  and  his 
head  well  upon  one  side,  and  his  eyes  half  closed 
themselves.  At  last  the  herb  of  Mercury  had  van- 
quished Circe's  sorceries. 

"You  understand  me  easily,"  she  added. 

ffl  understand  your  words,  lady." 

''And  you  know  yourself." 

"  Two-and-forty  years  I  have  been  studying,"  he 
said,  with  a  faint  smile. 

"Then  you  know  what  I  know,  and  how  I  despise 
you." 

"And  this  without  an  explanation  ?" 

"This  will  prove  all  you  ask,"  she  said.  "Here, 
monsieur,  is  a  full  explanation."  She  scornfully 
tossed  a  pocket-journal  at  his  feet,  and  wheeling 


AT    THE    MOUTH    OF    HELL.  89 

about  with  even  more    than    usual  dignity,  she    left 
him  alone. 

"By  the  great  God,  this  is  an  explanation!  —  my 
own  diary,  full  of  state  secrets  ! "  he  groaned  as  he 
stooped  to  pick  it  up.  "  Am  I  growing  old,  I  wonder, 
that  the  world,  for  me,  is  unearthing  such  a  host  of 
blunders  ?  " 

He  slipped  into  the  hall,  earnestly  hoping  that  no 
one  would  notice  his  leave-taking  ;  but  a  page  waited 
by  the  stairs,  and  led  him  through  the  hall  to  the 
great  door  on  the  court. 

Albrecht  von  Bremen  was  not  a  man  of  haste  in 
passion.  He  moved  slowly  where  others  raved,  drag- 
ging his  words  after  him  as  though  it  were  a  burden 
for  him  to  pronounce  them.  But  his  case  was  pecu- 
liar to-day.  An  overpowering  desire  seized  him  to 
wreak  a  vengeance  upon  something,  were  it  never  so 
meager,  to  be  once  more,  as  many  times  before,  the 
victor.  This  being  the  victim  was  ne,w  to  him,  and 
disagreeable.  It  was  thought  and  done.  As  the  twist- 
ing, squirming,  well-taught  page  threw  the  great 
doors  open  before  him,  the  Dane  carried  out  his  new 
desire  with  the  toe  of  his  boot,  and  a  screaming, 
howling  boy,  out  on  the  marble  pavement  of  the 
court,  was  the  immediate  result. 

"  Stop  the  howling  !  "  the  Dane  whispered  fiercely, 
bending  over  him.  "Come  now,  to  stop  I'll  give 
you  a  five-franc  piece  or  another  kick.  What!  five 
won't  do  it  ?  Make  it  ten,  then,  —  ten  francs  or  two 
kicks.  Now  —  er  —  now  mind  you  stop  !  "  The  boy 
smothered  his  sobs  in  his  coat-sleeve.  "See  how  they 
glitter  !  Look  !  I  —  er —  I  drop  them  into  the  pocket 
of  your  —  er  —  your  —  er  —  what  is  it?  —  bob-coal? 


pO  CASTLE    FOAM. 

Yes,  to  be  sure,  bob-coat;  very  pretty  bob-coat, — 
yes." 

When  the  boy  was  in  the  hall  again,  and  looked  in 
the  pocket  of  the  very  pretty  bob-coat,  and  die1  not 
find  the  two  bright  five-franc  pieces,  he  came  to  the 
philosophical  conclusion  that  he  might  as  well  have 
taken  his  time  leisurely,  cried  his  cry  out,  and  had 
just  so  many  of  life's  tears  shed,  as  to  have  trusted 
that  man  for  either  his  five-franc  pieces  or  his  kicks. 
It  had  done  its  work,  however,  and  the  Dane  rode 
away  calmer  by  far  for  the  loss  of  the  surplus  energy, 
and  feeling  nearer  equal  with  the  world  as  a  whole, 
if  not  with  the  atoms  composing  it,  —  the  story  of  the 
sparrow  and  the  eagle  over  again. 

Obedient  to  his  order,  the  heavy  coach-wheels  that 
bore  him  rattled  down  the  uneven  pavement  of  the 
Rue  du  Mont  Blanc,  over  the  long  bridge  across  the 
Rhone,  past  the  little  island  to  the  right,  where  Pra- 
dier's  statue  of  Rousseau  now  stands,  and  the  ducks 
and  geese  and  swans  live  in  the  boiling  foam  of  the 
rushing  river. 

"How  is  it  they  say,"  muttered  the  Dane,  "'Nine 
trip  on  the  sill  where  one  falls  on  the  walk '  ?  I  think 
so,  yes ;  but  what  of  it  ?  Tripping  is  not  falling,  nor 
is  falling  going  down  forever.  '  Flames  may  be  kin- 
dled while  the  taper  burns.'  H'm  —  yes.  Better  keep 
it  burning,  then,  till  the  fire  is  started." 

"  I  say,  coacher,  what  are  you  stopping  for  ?  "  he 
asked,  as  the  sturdy,  one-ideaed  coachman  appeared 
at  the  window  with  a  broad,  full  face  that  almost 
filled  the  opening.  One  hand  was  upon  the  knob 
of  the  door,  while  the  other  grasped  the  brim  of  his 
great  glazed  hat  as  a  wood-cutter  would  have  grasped 


AT    THE    MOUTH    OF    HELL.  pi 

the  ax.  His  round,  gray  eyes  looked  a  little  mysti- 
fied withal  as  he  asked  : 

"And  did  you  not  say  to  the  English  Gardens  and 
leave  you  there  ?  " 

"Did  I  ?  Oh  — er  — yes,  I  believe  I  did.  Open 
the  door  for  me.  The  scenery  was  so  fine,  I  quite  — 
er  —  yes,  yes,  —  a  pretty  place  is  Interlachen." 

The  rough  fingers  clutched  at  the  hat-brim  in  a  sort 
of  despair  as  the  driver  replied,  "  This  Interlachen  ?  " 

"Oh  —  er  —  yes,  I  see.  Let  me  out,  I  say  !  And 
what  place  is  it,  then  ?  " 

"Genevar,  sir." 

"Geneva  —  er  —  yes,  Geneva.  A  pretty  place  is 
—  er  —  er  —  yes,  yes — "  and  turning  sharply,  he 
walked  away. 

"  Geneva —  a-w  —  yes  —  aw  —  Gcnevaiv"  mused 
the  driver,  looking  stupidly  after  him,  and  tapping 
his  weather-beaten  nose  with  his  whip-handle.  "And 
what  sort  o'  man  are  ye,  hey,  as  don't  know  Genev^w 
from  Interlachen  when  you  sees  it,  hey  ?  Bein'  yer 
forgetful,  mayhap  ye's  forgotten  some  'nothermore 
beside  as  I's  had  best  remind  you  of." 

Pulling  the  glazed  hat  hard  over  his  forehead,  and 
giving  a  cautionary  look  from  under  it  to  the  old 
horse,  who  seemed  in  no  haste  to  leave  a  bit  of  grass 
he  could  reach  with  the  tip  of  his  tongue,  he  spoke 
the  inevitable  "whoa  !"  thrust  his  whip  into  a  "relief" 
in  the  trappings  of  the  collar,  and  started  at  a  clumsy 
run  after  Von  Bremen.  The  Dane  heard  him  coming, 
and  purposely  walked  at  such  a  pace  that  more  than 
once  the  stiff-legged  driver  almost  gave  up  the  chase. 
It  was  a  long,  hard  run  for  him ;  but  in  time,  pant- 
ing, his  forehead  covered  with  great  beads  of  per- 


92  CASTLE    FOAM. 

spiration,  he  planted  himself  before  his  forgetful  pas- 
senger, gasping,  "Please,  sir,  ye's  forgot  —  " 

"Ah!"  said  the  Dane,  turning  shortly  enough  to 
have  annihilated  one  a  whit  less  toughened  and  dull 
than  he. 

"  But  ye's  forgot  —  " 

"Forgotten  what  place  this  is?  Why,  Geneva,  you 
knave  !  Geneva.  You  told  me  yourself,  an  — " 

"  The  pay,  the  pay  !  the  pay  !  " 

"  Oh  —  er —  yes,  I  see,  I  see.  I  thought  I  told  you 
I  should  want  you  to-morrow  at  the  same  time  as  to- 
day. Here  is  my  card  ;  come  again  to  the  hotel  in  the 
morning.  I  will  —  er  —  yes,  I  will  pay  you  for  both 
at  once."  Then  looking  into  the  driver's  eyes  with  a 
fiendish  grin,  he  added,  "  Tomova  la  -por  rosa,  mas 
devenia  cardo,  scnor  Vctturino "  (I  took  her  for  a 
rose,  but  she  has  proved  a  thorn),  and  left  him. 

The  coachman  stuffed  the  card  into  his  pocket. 
Could  he  have  read  it  he  would  have  found  it  the 
name  of  a  pawn-broking  Israelite  of  the  city.  And 
muttering,  "What  sort  o'  gibberish  is  that,  hey?" 
turned  again  to  his  horse. 

When  the  Dane  was  nearly  out  of  sight  he  cast  a 
quick  glance  over  his  shoulder  at  the  outwitted  driver. 
He  clinked  the  two  five-franc  pieces  with  his  hand, 
that  hung  by  the  thumb  in  the  pocket  of  his  panta- 
loons, and  with  his  head  upon  one  side,  he  muttered : 
"  I  think  I'll  go  back  to  Denmark.  Til  start  to-night. 
I'll  wait  until  her  anger  cools  before  I  speak  again. 
Oh,  that  wretched  journal !  How  came  I  to  lose  it? 
I've  a  mind  I'll  never  keep  another.  That  I  have."' 

The  countess's  daughter  too,  after  performing  her 
feat  of  prodigious  bravery,  found  herself  almost  power- 


AT    THE    MOUTH    OF    HELL.  93 

less  in  body  and  mind,  and  also  much  inclined  to  re- 
turn to  the  north ;  and  not  many  days  later  all  that 
was  left  of  the  house  of  Kramareff  was  rattling  and 
rolling  along  the  dusty,  sunbaked  roads  toward  the 
far  away  capital  of  Russia. 

By  a  chance  meeting,  Major  Wolzonn  had  been 
for  one  day  an  occupant  of  their  carriage.  He  was 
strolling  restlessly  about  the  world,  trying  to  use  up 
his  summer.  His  courage  had  flagged  before  reaching 
St.  Petersburg,  and  he  had,  after  all,  determined  to 
wait  till  the  prince  returned  from  his  hunting-trip, 
which  would  now  be  by  the  time  he  could  reach  the 
capital,  and  decide  for  himself  on  more  positive  evi- 
dence whether  in  fact  he  had  seen  more  than  a  her- 
mit and  more  than  a  horse.  After  coming  to  this 
conclusion,  he  wished  himself  back  by  the  Round 
Lake  as  bitterly  as  he  had  wished  himself  away 
from  it. 

Rounding  the  hills,  a  small  village  came  in  view, 
quietly,  almost  lovingly  lying  on  the  rough  breast,  in 
the  rugged  arms  of  mountains  frozen  at  the  crown 
and  clothed  with  evergreen  about  the  base.  Only  a 
moment  more  and  the  heavy  carriage  drew  up,  not  at 
a  post-station,  but  at  a  village  inn. 

"This  is  the  third  time  only  that  you  have  seen 
this  spot,"  the  countess  said  to  her  daughter.  "  It 
was  a  favorite  with  your  father ; "  and  mechanically 
the  arm  lifted  the  handkerchief,  and  the  chronic  tear 
came  out  to  meet  it.  Major  Wolzonn  disliked  those 
tears,  and  was  inexpressibly  thankful  that  at  the  mo- 
ment he  was  stepping  from  the  coach.  He  had  been 
in  a  state  of  nervous  prostration  all  summer,  looking 
for  something  that  never  came,  expecting  it  in  every 


94 


CASTLE    FOAM. 


noise  and  footfall,  till  the  "  sound  of  a  falling  leaf  had 
chased  him."  In  this  same  condition  he  found  him- 
self, though  the  evening  was  far  spent,  lying  on  a 
carpet  of  pine  needles  in  the  dense  shadow  of  a  moun- 
tain grove  that  touched"  the  inn  upon  one  side,  and  on 
the  other,  with  but  a  few  unimportant  breaks,  the  melt- 
ing snows  of  August.  He  had  been  long  in  that  same 
position,  for  the  red  moon  rising  over  the  ragged 
peaks,  and  shining  at  last  white  and  clear  through 
breaks  here  and  there  in  the  branches,  touched  with 
brilliants  little  dewdrops  gathered  on  his  epaulets  and 
silver  sword-scabbard,  when  suddenly  he  was  aware 
of  a  form  stealing  stealthily  from  the  veranda  of  the 
inn,  and  crouching  through  the  moonlight  by  a  path 
skirting  the  grove.  From  his  position  he  could  easily 
see  beneath  the  branches.  He  started  to  his  feet,  for 
no  amount  of  disguising  and  crouching  could  hide 
from  one  so  familiar  as  he,  the  tall,  graceful  figure 
of  the  countess's  daughter.  The  rattle  of  his  sword- 
harness  startled  her.  He  was  a  fool  to  have  moved, 
he  thought,  but  made  the  best  of  it  by  saying,  "  It  is  I, 
a  friend,  lady." 

"  Major  Wolzonn  !  "  she  exclaimed,  with  a  sigh  of 
relief  and  regret  mingled.  "  I  did  not  think  to  find 
you  here." 

"Where  are  you  going,  my  lady?"  he  asked ;  then 
added  quickly,  "  But  never  mind.  You  should  not 
go  alone.  Let  me  follow  at  a  distance,  lady  ;  some- 
thing may  happen  when  you  may  need  my  sword. 
I  will  see  nothing,  hear  nothing,  I  swear  by  —  " 

"  Tut !  tut !  No  swearing  in  the  moonlight.  But 
come  if  you  like,  and  keep  your  eyes  and  ears  open 
if  you  will ;  only  keep  your  lips  closed  afterward." 


AT    THE    MOUTH    OF    HELL.  95 

"  Enough  !     They  shall  be  hermetically  sealed." 

They  walked  together,  she  taking  the  lead,  down 
a  narrow  path,  he  following,  hardly  so  much  as  won- 
dering what  the  end  would  be. 

"  Is  it  very  late?  "  she  asked. 

"  Not  more  than  ten ;  but  late  enough.  Are  you 
frightened  ?  " 

"Ah,  dear,  no  !  I  was  only  thinking.  Stop  !  this 
is  not  the  way.  Ah,  yes  !  here  it  is,  this  little  path,  — 
leading  up  the  hill,  I  mean.  What  if  we  had  passed 
it?" 

"  And  how  far  does  it  lead  up  the  hill  ?  "  asked  the 
major,  after  they  had  been  climbing  long  enough 
according  to  his  fancy. 

The  lady  laughed.  "  I  believe  that  Major  Wol- 
zonn  is  a  little  bit  afraid.  Really,  I  do  not  know. 
I  was  here  only  once,  once  with  the  Duchess  von 
Offenbach  ;  I  think  that  was  the  name  :  a  lovely  lady, 
though  I  have  never  met  her  since.  There,  it  was 
just  past  this  rock.  And  see  —  see  it !  We  are 
already  there." 

"Already  where,  my  lady?" 

She  laughed  again.  "I've  just  been  waiting  my 
patience  out  for  that  question.  Why  didn't  you  ask 
before?  Have  you  no  curiosity?"  She  leaned 
against  the  rock  to  rest  for  a  moment,  and  turned 
that  lovely  face  full  upon  his.  Ah,  the  wild  moon- 
light !  how  it  enhances  even  the  sweetest  face ! 
The  officer  trembled  under  the  blow,  for  it  was  noth- 
ing less.  He  would  have  fallen  on  his  knees,  and 
touched  his  forehead  to  the  ground  in  the  serfs  sub- 
mission to  this  vision  of  splendor.  He  would  have 
exhausted  the  vocabulary  of  love,  and  not  have  spoken 


96  CASTLE    FOAM. 

then  the  half  that  was  cruelly  crushed  into  the  dun- 
geons of  his  heart.  But  had  he  not  sworn  tfby  that 
fair  hand  "  never  again  to  speak  of  love  ?  With  al- 
most superhuman  will  he  thrust  the  opportunity  be- 
hind him,  and  replied,  "  To  the  soldier  curiosity  is 
forbidden.  His  part  is  not  to  ask  or  reason,  but  to 
do  and  die."  And  the  profound  truth  that  he  spoke, 
in  its  terrible  application  to  himself,  made  his  heart 
sick  and  faint,  even  in  the  moonlight,  alone  with  one 
of  the  fairest  women  in  the  world. 

"  But  to-night  you  are  not  a  soldier,  you  are  only  a 
man,"  she  answered. 

Why  did  she  tempt  him?  Was  it  not  wonderful 
already  that  flesh  and  blood  could  withstand  so  much? 
Why  did  she  thus  redouble  the  agony  ?  Probably  she 
had  not  the  least  idea  of  what  she  did.  With  one 
more  tremendous  effort,  turning  his  head  that  he 
might  not  see  the  face  as  he  spoke,  he  answered : 

"And  you  see  I  have  already  been  enough  of  a 
man  to  ask." 

"  That  is  just  like  you.  But  tell  me,  do  you  believe 
in  ghosts  and  witches?  " 

"Why?  Have  you  seen  a  skeleton  pass  this 
way  ?  " 

"  Pshaw  !  Therre's  an  old  woman  lives  just  over 
there,  unless  she's  dead,  a  hundred  years  old  at  least, 
I  know,  and  I  really  believe  she  can  tell  you  every- 
thing of  what  your  life  has  been,  and  what  it  will 
be." 

The  officer  shuddered.  He  did  not  much  fancy 
such  an  unfolding,  but  answered  her  lightly  enough, 
"  In  truth,  lady,  I  am  not  much  of  a  believer  in  what 


AT    THE    MOUTH    OF    HELL.  97 

understand,  but  fond  enough,  after  all,  of 
mysteries.     We  will  go  on  when  you  are  rested." 

The  walls  of  a  low-roofed  hovel  rose  grim  and 
forebodingly  black  against  the  sky.  One  would  know, 
without  being  told,  that  it  was  the  home  of  a  wild 
Zenza.  The  very  moonlight  seemed  to  loath  it,  alone 
on  the  edge  of  a  black  forest.  The  first  sight  sent  a 
shiver  creeping  through  the  soldier's  veins. 

"Will  you  knock?"  asked  the  lady,  seeing  her 
companion  hesitate  after  they  had  found  the  door. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  will,"  he  replied,  but  could  not  move 
a  hand.  Cold  sweat  stood  on  his  forehead  not  chilled 
by  the  \vind.  ^Long,  quivering  shadows  stretched  to- 
ward them  from  rocks  and  pine-trees.  Snow  fell  with 
a  muffled  crash  over  some  distant  precipice,  wrapped 
in  its  swaddling-clothes  of  clouds,  and  the  silence  that 
followed  the  echoes  was  stiller  and  more  ghostly  than 
before. 

The  countess's  daughter  stepped  forward,  and 
shame,  not  courage,  drove  the  soldier  to  answer 
again,  "Yes,  yes,  my  lady,  I  will  rap." 

Three  times  he  touched  the  door.  The  first  he 
hardly  heard  himself,  the  last  could  not  have  roused 
a  waiting  ghost.  He  started  back,  muttered  a  curse 
that  died  upon  his  lips,  and  waited.  A  stranger, 
stronger  terror  seized  him. 

The  signal  was  an  open  sesame,  faint  as  it  w;s. 
He  saw  the  black  door  swing  upon  its  hinges  and  dis- 
appear in  blacker  night.  Mechanically  he  followed 
the  lady,  as  she  felt  her  way  across  the  threshold, 
asking,  "  Helwig,  is  that  you?" 

"  Helwig,"  squeaked  a  shrill  voice  that  might  have 
fallen  from  the  ill-tuned  throat  of  an  eagle  perched  on 
7 


98  CASTLE    FOAM. 

one  of  those  distant  crags,  for  all  there  was  in  it  to 
indicate  a  near  human  being.  "  And  who  else  could 
it  be,  living  here  at  the  mouth  of  hell,  to  tell  people 
their  comings?" 

"Amen!"  muttered  Constantine  Wolzonn.  But 
once  within  the  hut,  the  dank  odor  of  long-burned 
drugs  served  in  a  measure  to  suffocate  his  fears.  In 
a  dreamy,  half-cognizant  state  he  stood  with  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  moonlight  as  it  shone  upon  the  window, 
the  only  window  of  the  miserable  apartment. 

"Do  you  know  me?  "  asked  the  lady,  who  was  yet 
far  from  satisfied. 

"You?"  cried  the  same  voice  again,  still  coming 
from  far  in  the  distance.  "  And  it's  few  that  I  don't 
know,  and  few  that  I  do  know." 

A  little  blue  blaze  sprang  flickering  up  in  a  cup  of 
oil.  She  held  the  cup  above  her  head,  and  shaded 
her  eyes  with  a  hand  whose  long,  huge-jointed  fin- 
gers, black  with  burned  sulphur  and  wrinkled  with 
age,  were  tipped  with  curling  finger-nails.  And 
though  she  closed  the  fingers,  the  light  still  shone  be- 
tween the  joints  in  irregular  patches  over  her  face. 
She  advanced  a  pace,  and  even  Lady  von  Kramareff 
fell  back  with  a  shudder  as  Urim  prepared  a  reply. 

"You  !  "  she  cried  again.  w  Aye,  aye  !  'twas  your 
father  you  asked  me  of;  murdered,  you  told  me,  — 
and  I  you,  — by  a  stripling  whom  you  knew  and  your 
father  loved."  She  nodded  her  head  with  a  fiendish 
grin. 

"  Yes,  Helwig,  you  know  me,  and  I  am  faithful 
to-night ;  I  believe  you  know  everything.  Take  this 
and  tell  me  what  is  coming.  Tell  me  truly,  and  you 
shall  have  another  when  you  are  done." 


AT    THE    MOUTH    OF    HELL.  99 

Taking  the  coin,  she  held  it  under  the  light  for  an 
instant,  then  tossed  it  into  a  broken  urn,  muttering, 
"  Gold  !  "  with  an  unearthly  chuckle. 

She  commenced  her  work  of  foretelling  with  a 
huge  copper  caldron  remodeled  to  serve  as  a  fur- 
nace, where  soon  the  crackling  of  a  fire  was  heard, 
and  from  which  issued  the  thick  white  smoke  of  sul- 
phur burning,  as  Yama  Dehrmarajah  Patala  rode 
upward. 

The  jets  of  flame  searched  deeper  into  the  corners 
than  the  lamplight,  in  one  disclosing  two  ghastly 
bones,  bleached  white,  hanging  crossed  above  a  pile 
of  straw  that  formed  the  witch's  bed ;  in  another, 
pulling  restlessly  upon  his  chain,  grinding  a  plum- 
stone  between  his  teeth,  grinned  an  ape,  while  before 
him  two  yellow  eyes,  glowing  like  coals  of  fire, 
marked  the  head  of  a  large  black  cat. 

Lady  von  KramarefT  drew  closer  to  the  officer, 
trembling  and  starting  in  terror  as  the  reflection 
from  his  glasses,  that  had  fallen  from  his  nose, 
danced  about  the  room.  She  was  under  the  terror 
now,  and  a  wild  chant  the  witch  struck  up  was  grow- 
ing louder.  She  whined  and  cried  like  a  southern 
hyena  when  the  moon  is  rising  out  of  the  Syrian  des- 
ert, and,  throwing  more  sulphur  on  the  fire,  fell  upon 
the  floor  in  grotesque  contortions.  Old  mother  earth 
was  the  floor  of  her  dwelling,  and  in  her  unintelligi- 
ble incantations  she  seemed  to  be  reproducing  Gray's  : 

"  Facing  to  the  northern  clime, 
Thrice  she  traced  the  Runic  rhyme; 
Thrice  pronounced,  in  accents  dread, 
The  thrilling  verse  that  wakes  the  dead; 
Till  from  out  the  hollow  ground 
Slowly  breathed  a  sullen  sound." 


100  CASTLE    FOAM. 

At  all  events  the  sullen  sound  came  at  last,  in  the 
center  of  a  charmed  circle,  but  more  in  response  to 
a  heap  of  live  coals  she  took  from  the  caldron  and 
dropped  in  the  circle  than  in  answer  to  her  weird 
call.  And  the  sound  was  followed  by  a  shining 
brown  head,  with  two  small  black  eyes  and  a  fiery 
red  tongue.  And  the  shining  body  of  a  snake 
followed  it,  and  coiled  in  the  circle  as  far  as  possible 
from  the  coals. 

Inspired  by  the  malicious,  low  glare  in  its  eye,  and 
told  its  tale  in  that  solemn  hiss,  she  ceased  her  chant- 
ing to  watch  it  and  listen,  as  the  Hindoo  soothsayers 
watch  the  evil  eye  of  Sani. 

w  Aye,  aye  !  "  she  cried,  springing  to  her  knees, 
and  pointing  a  long  crooked  finger  to  the  sulphur 
smoke  that  was  slowly  rising,  "  look  there  in  the 
white  smoke  !  Three  boys  are  holding  cages  up  and 
calling  to  a  bird,  '  Oh,  my  pretty,  pretty  ! '  She 
wants  the  food  they  offer,  but  cannot  tell  which  of 
the  three  to  en-ter.  One  calls  to  her,  'Come  to  me; 
for  thy  song  and  thy  beauty  I'll  cherish  and  love 
thee.'  No,  no ;  she  leaves  him,  and  I  thought  she 
would;  for  he  promised  well,  but  his  cage  was  the 
commonest  cage  of  all."  Then  she  swayed  to  and 
fro  as  though  heart-broken  over  the  depravity. 

"Aye,  aye!"  cried  the  withered  witch  again. 
w  Look  there  in  the  white  smoke  !  Two  boys  are 
holding  cages  up  and  calling  to  a  bird,  'Ah !  my 
pretty,  my  pretty  ! '  and  one  cries,  'Come  to  me,  and 
a  gay  life  of  passion  I  shall  give  to  thee.'  Aye,  she 
lights  upon  his  cage.  Ha  !  he  grasped  for  her  and 
missed  her.  Oh  !  oh  !  "  She  clasped  her  forehead  be- 
tween her  palms  and  swung  as  a  weaver  at  his  loom. 


AT    THE    MOUTH    OF    HELL.  IOI 

w  He  cursed  his  luck  wbri  he  lost  her,  that  he  had  not 
her  wings  and  her  tail  to  sell  in  the  market.  Ha  ! 
ha  !  ha  !  that  was  a  gay  life,  sure,  and  to  be  sure. 

"  Hush  !  "  she  exclaimed,  as  the  snake  began  to 
sway  from  side  to  side  ;  seeing  which,  the  ape  in  the 
corner  crouched,  shivering,  behind  his  chain.  The 
snake  sat  erect ;  the  ape  went  on  crunching  his  ever- 
lasting plum-stone.  The  old  woman  sought  another 
picture  in  the  white  smoke  that  now  came  more 
slowly  and  in  irregular  puffs. 

"  Look  there  !  "  she  cried  once  more.  "  One  boy 
alone.  His  cage  is  on  the  ground.  He  says,  '  Go  in, 
if  you  wish  to.  I  would  have  a  bird  to  sing,  and  why 
not  you  if  you  sing  well ;  '  and  —  aye,  aye  !  she  has 
gonvj  straight  into  his  cage  !  Lackaday  for  it,  too  ! 
But  'tis  always  so.  Ah  !  and  I  see  another  picture. 
He  cared  not  enough  for  his  bird  to  shut  the  door,  yet 
I  see  her  struggling,  struggling,  struggling  against 
the  wires,  and  on  beyond  I  see  where  winds  are 
blowing  and  fierce  tempests  howling.  I  see  an 
escape,  and  a  capture  by  another.  I  see  —  I  see 
bright  feathers  floating  everywhere.  I  see  the  wings 
and  the  tail  in  the  market,  and  the  market  is  at  the 
bottom  of  a  raging  sea.  Look  !  catch  it !  It  leaves 
me.  It  is — perhaps  it  is  all  a  false  dream,  my  lady. 
Time  shall  try.  But  my  fire  is  almost  dead.  Give 
me  your  gold  if  you  are  satisfied,  and  go  your  way." 

Major  Wolzonn  gave  the  gold  this  time.  Strange- 
ly, perhaps,  he  had  a  very  kindly  feeling  toward  that 
mysterious  hag,  and  mentally  resolved  to  visit  her 
alone  some  day.  And  that  night,  long  after  to  be 
remembered,  was  almost  forgotten  even  before  they 
reached  the  inn.  The  major's  lips  were  sworn  to 


102  CASTLE    FOAM. 

silence.     The  countess's  daughter  did  not  choose  to 
speak. 

The  prophecy  made  but  little  impression ;  and  no 
sooner  had  the  Kramareffs  reached  St.  Petersburg 
than  Heinrich  Charlovitz,  a  Greek  priest  related  to 
the  family  and  upon  terms  of  intimacy,  was  taken 
into  the  confidence  of  the  countess  and  her  daughter 
to  accomplish  that  end  which,  in  truth,  had  been  the 
first  proposed,  the  one  which  Elise  had  failed  to  hear. 
A  desperate  effort  was  to  be  made  for  the  high  aim 
which  alone  seemed  to  promise  satisfaction  to  the 
daughter,  the  success  of  which  was  so  very  doubtful 
in  the  mind  of  the  mother.  Heinrich  Charlovitz,  with 
the  cunning  hand  of  a  priest,  and  the  pretty  face  of 
the  countess's  daughter,  surprised  the  mother's  fears. 


THE    SERPENT    TEMPTED    ME.  103 


CHAPTER    X. 

THE   SERPENT  TEMPTED   ME,  AND   I   DID   EAT. 

TMMEDIATELY  on  reaching  the  capital,  Major 
J_  Wolzonn,  too,  had  work  to  do.  It  took  him  at 
once  to  Castle  Foam.  The  prince  was  away.  The 
great  gates  on  the  highway  were  closed.  The  officer 
in  vain  questioned  the  lodge-man  as  to  the  where- 
abouts of  his  master.  He  had  returned  from  his  hunt 
nearly  a  month  before,  had  remained  at  home  two 
weeks  and  gone  again  ;  gone  in  his  own  caleche,  four 
horses,  a  driver,  a  valet,  and  two  saddles.  That  was 
the  only  information. 

Something  induced  Major  Wolzonn  to  leave  the 
capital  on  horseback  before  daylight  next  morning, 
and  drive  thirty  versts  to  the  post-station  beyond  the 
fork  in  the  roads,  where  the  southern  and  eastern 
ways  separate.  There  he  stopped  overnight,  though 
it  was  altogether  unnecessary,  and  asked  incident- 
ally if  the  Prince  von  Meerschaum  had  passed  that 
way  southward,  and  not  returned,  within  the  pres- 
ent month.  Receiving  an  affirmative  answer,  he 
started  early  the  next  morning  for  the  capital  again, 
after  passing  a  sleepless  night ;  dictated  a  letter,  with 
many  a  pungent  frown,  and  carried  it  in  haste  to  the 
wharves,  where  a  certain  vessel  of  extraordinary  ap- 
pearance, painted  black,  with  blood-red  sails,  and 


104  CASTLE    FOAM. 

christened  "  Midnight,"  was  all  ready  to  sail  for  a 
trading-port  upon  a  coast  below. 

The  master  of  the  boat  nodded  as  the  officer  stepped 
aboard,  and  though  he  took  no  immediate  notice  be- 
yond the  nod,  he  very  soon  found  himself  in  an  obscure 
corner  far  forward,  very  sure  that  the  officer  would 
almost  immediately  pass  him.  This  was  done ;  the 
officer  handed  him  the  letter  without  a  word.  The  cap- 
tain took  it  without  a  word,  and  the  officer  was  gone. 
The  "Midnight"  sailed,  and  in  time  cast  anchor  in  a 
small,  half-sheltered  harbor  on  the  coast  of  Denmark. 
A  hunchback  sat  astride  one  of  the  braces  of  the  pier, 
his  legs,  the  only  regular  thing  in  his  entire  make-up, 
swinging  free  in  the  salt  air,  as  if  to  say,  "  Look  here  ! 
so  much  of  me  is  as  good  as  any  man ;  and  for  the 
rest,  'faith,  I  maybe  better,  for  aught  you  know." 

The  captain  passed  the  hunchback  with  a  nod, 
much  the  same  sort  of  a  nod  as  he  had  bestowed  on 
Major  Wolzonn ;  nothing  more,  except  that  as  he 
passed  he  dropped  a  small  leather  bag  close  behind 
him.  The  hunchback  did  not  move  directly,  except 
to  pick  up  the  leather  bag  and  deposit  it  in  his  lap. 
In  time,  however,  he  slowly  wriggled  up,  and  slowly, 
very  slowly,  wriggled  away  from  the  pier  and  up  the 
hill  behind  it. 

A  London  fog,  of  old-time  London,  hung  over  the 
little  seaport  town,  the  gray,  old,  dingy,  crumbling 
town.  An  old-fashioned  Londoner  would  have  de- 
clared it  only  a  fragment  broken  from  the  great  Eng- 
lish capital  cloud,  as  it  drifted  in  heavy  masses  with 
every  varying  breath  from  the  water,  till  the  gray- 
blue  walls  of  the  houses  dripped  like  the  walls  of  the 
blue  grotto  at  Capri.  Sunset,  the  clock  said;  but 


THE    SERPENT    TEMPTED    ME.  105 

what  of  it?  Since  noon  the  houses  across  the  narrow 
streets  had  been  invisible.  The  "Midnight"  had 
been  all  day  working  her  way  into  the  harbor.  Only 
now  and  then  the  clamp  of  the  spoon-shod  mule  broke 
the  damp,  dead  silence.  A  quiet,  dull  old  town  in  its 
best  estate,  and  nicknamed  "  L'Ennuyeux,"  it  was  ten- 
fold more  worthy  the  name  in  a  time  like  this. 

After  pushing  his  way  through  fog-banks  and  nar- 
row streets,  where  the  only  lights  to  be  seen  looked 
like  meteors  thousands  of  miles  away,  with  a  misty 
halo  about  each  of  them,  the  hunchback  turned  into  a 
narrower  alley,  where  not  a  light  was  to  be  seen  from 
any  distance.  The  gray  of  daylight  had  given  place 
to  the  blackest  of  night,  and  a  thin,  ill-shapen  hand 
slid  along  the  wall  of  the  alley,  to  detect  by  some  sign 
or  other  the  spot  where  a  door  was  to  be  found. 
It  was  still  there,  and  the  hunchback  entered  and 
began  laboriously  climbing  up  flight  after  flight  of 
uneven  stone  stairs,  worn  down  in  ruts,  where  for 
many  a  year  wooden  shoes,  large  ones  and  small 
ones,  had  clattered  over  them.  For  a  score  of  families 
found  nests  for  themselves  in  the  small  double  rooms, 
and  still  smaller  single  rooms,  opening  on  that  stone 
staircase.  The  little  hunchback  did  not  stop  at  any 
landing,  where  lamplight  or  firelight  twinkled  through 
keyhole  or  crack,  but  kept  on  and  on  till  he  stood  be- 
fore the  dingy,  smoking  lantern  that  hung  at  the  head 
of  the  third  landing.  There  he  paused  for  a  moment, 
with  more  of  a  grunt  than  a  sigh,  and  twisting  a  bit 
of  paper,  lit  it  at  the  lantern,  shaded  it  with  his  hand, 
and  climbed  on.  The  blue  flickering  light  with  its 
blue-black  shadows,  and  the  pink  lines  between  the 
fingers  that  carefully  shielded  it,  and  the  white  and 


106  CASTLE    FOAM. 

black  blur  of  the  face  that  bent  over  it,  made  an  odd 
little  picture,  but  the  hunchback  was  past  minding 
that.  The  steps  grew  smoother  as  he  crept  higher, 
and,  with  the  light  to  aid  him,  he  soon  reached  the 
fifth  landing,  where  only  two  doors  presented  them- 
selves, leading  to  two  little  dove-cotes  under  the  eaves. 
On  one  of  these  doors  he  rapped,  but  entered  without 
waiting  a  reply.  A  little  ill-trimmed  lamp  was  burn- 
ing on  a  table.  It  lit  up  the  room  with  a  ghostly 
hue,  this  little  neglected  lamp,  disclosing  four  walls, 
two  of  stone,  two  of  plaster,  bare  stone  and  bare  plas- 
ter, and  a  floor  of  tile  as  hard,  bare,  and  cold  as  the 
walls  ;  a  rude  bedstead,  a  chair,  a  high  stool,  a  wooden 
table,  and  two  or  three  cumbersome  boxes.  That 
was  all,  except  the  occupant.  He  sat  in  the  chair, 
his  arm  thrown  upon  the  table  with  the  easy  grace  of 
long  acquaintance  with  luxury.  A  heavy  seal  ring 
graced  one  of  the  extended  fingers,  and  his  costume 
was  precise  to  the  latest  fashion  in  the  gay  world, 
and  elegant.  A  portfolio  lay  open  before  him.  He 
had  been  amusing  himself  with  his  pen.  The  result 
lay  in  the  best  light  of  the  poor  lamp  :  two  com- 
panion sketches  on  a  large  sheet  of  paper.  One  of  a 
man  (doubtless  in  spirit  himself),  merry  and  ani- 
mated, in  a  regal  apartment,  bending  over  a  beauti- 
ful lady.  The  other  was  of  the  same  man  in  just 
such  another  as  this  little  stone  room  under  the  eaves. 
Beneath  them  he  had  written  : 

"  Life  is  a  golden  goblet 

Brimming  with  wine; 
Now  quaff  I  right  royally 

The  sparkling  foam, 
And  now,  the  bitter  of  the  dregs, 

They  shall  be  thine." 


THE    SERPENT    TEMPTED    ME.  IC>7 

He  did  not  even  notice  the  entrance  of  the  hunch- 
back. He  was  looking  at  the  picture.  Nervously 
tapping  the  table  with  his  fingers,  he  moaned,  "  When 
will  this  everlasting  almost  end  in  one  success?  Oh, 
Arnus  of  Etruria,  say  some  better  sooth  for  me  !  " 

"  What's  he  been  doing  to  you  now?  "  squeaked  the 
hunchback,  in  that  shrill  falsetto  so  common  when 
the  lungs  are  drawn  all  out  of  position. 

"  Ha  !  Little  one,  what  business  have  you  there?  " 
said  the  elegant,  still  frowning  from  the  "  bitter 
dregs." 

"  What  you  thinking  of  ?  —  that  girl,  I'll  be  bound," 
replied  the  hunchback,  giving  no  heed  to  the  question. 

"How  soon  will  you  obey  me,"  said  the  other, 
springing  to  his  feet,  "  and  hold  your  crazy  tongue  ?  " 

"  Dreamed  more  'n  once  of  late  that  there's  ill  luck 
for  you  in  that  quarter.  It's  no  good  comes  from 
such  —  " 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  or  I'll  choke  you  !  "  roared  the 
seal-ring. 

"  No,  you  won't.  You  aren't  able,  and  you  wouldn't 
do  it  if  you  could,"  observed  the  hunchback,  com- 
placently, and  added,  after  a  moment's  pause,  "But 
if  that's  the  mood  you're  in  to-night,  I'm  blessed  if  it's 
any  pleasanter  drying  up  in  here  than  soaking  out- 
side, so  out  I  go." 

"Yes,  go,  for  that  is  just  the  mood  I'm  in  to-night ;  " 
and  he  leaned  back  upon  the  table  again,  with  a 
heavy  sigh. 

The  boy  had  almost  closed  the  door  again  when  he 
turned,  threw  the  leather  bag  into  the  room,  explain- 
ing, "  '  Midnight '  brought.  I'd  'most  forgot,"  and 
slammed  the  door  behind  him. 


I08  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"  H'm,"  observed  the  solitary  occupant,  walking 
slowly  across  the  room,  then  picking  up  the  sack  and 
emptying  upon  the  table  a  half  dozen  letters.  "Your 
bump  of  memory  is  with  the  rest  of  your  brains  down 
between  your  shoulders.  But  a  capital  fellow  you  are 
for  some  things,  after  all,  and  keep  a  secret  better  than 
a  priest.  I  should  miss  you  sadly  if  you  were  to  die, 
but  there's  no  fear  of  that,  for  hunchbacks  never  do." 

From  several  of  the  letters  he  took  money,  with  a 
grim  smile  stirred  up  by  satisfaction ;  two  he  threw 
upon  the  floor,  then  drew  the  lamp  nearer  and  began 
to  read  carefully  the  one  he  had  saved  till  last.  Slowly 
he  read,  and  slowly  every  feature  of  his  calm  face 
changed,  till,  having  finished,  he  hung  his  hands  by 
his  thumbs  in  the  pockets  of  his  pantaloons,  and  his 
head  well  upon  one  side,  and  his  eyes  half  closed 
themselves  ;  and  while  he  crumpled  the  paper  fiercely 
in  his  hand,  a  volley  of  untrammeled  curses  burst 
from  his  lips  like  thunder  from  the  summer  clouds. 
He  held  it  over  the  lamp  till  all  was  consumed  but 
the  corner  in  his  fingers.  That  bit  he  threw  away. 
It  fell  by  the  lamp,  and  on  the  half  turned  upward 
one  word  was  written,  and  that  word  —  "Wolzonn." 

What  a  grand  or  gloomy  mausoleum,  covered  over 
with  hieroglyphics  like  the  monuments  of  Karnak  and 
Luxor,  thronged  with  weird  and  withered  mummies 
like  Thebes  and  Abydos,  rises  as  a  mental  mirage 
with  that  strange  spell,  a  name  ! 

When  the  storm  of  oaths  had  spent  itself,  the  head 
fell  wearily  down  on  the  folded  arms.  "  So  Reppoun 
has  found  her,"  he  muttered,  "  and  gone  again  to  com- 
plete his  discoveries.  He  is  bold  ;  he  is  honest.  Fool! 
Lord  Count  OlendorfT,  your  little  plans  and  mine  are. 


THE    SERPENT    TEMPTED    ME.  lOp 

like  to  be  buried  with  the  cities  of  the  plain.  Thank 
Fortune,  I  was  bright  enough  not  to  do  the  work 
myself,  for  some  one  will  sweat  for  it.  Good  Lord, 
deliver  me  ! " 

Then  he  was  silent,  —  a  long  time  silent,  —  and 
the  fog  drifted  outside  and  the  lamp  flickered  inside, 
till  the  fog  drifted  itself  away  without  and  the  lamp 
flickered  itself  out  within,  and  the  moon  shone  over 
the  ragged  red  tile  roofs  and  through  a  little  window. 
It  marched  slowly  over  the  floor,  crept  up  the  bent 
back,  over  the  bowed  head,  off  the  extended  finger- 
tips, and  then  disappeared  again,  and  the  air  was 
filled  with  the  gray  light  of  dawning  when  the  head 
was  lifted. 

"  H'm,"  said  the  owner,  "I  must  have  been  asleep  ! 
Yes,  that  was  a  bad  dream  !  Curse  it !  very  bad ! 
What  a  vicious  smell  hereabout !  And  my  light  is 
out !  I  did  not  put  it  out — no  !  Ugh  !  having  my  arm 
sawn  off  by  the  Prince  Reppoun  and  Kathi  Chich- 
kini,  while  Major  Wolzonn  and  the  Countess  Krama- 
reff  held  me  !  Ugh  !  my  arm  is  asleep,  —  that  is  the 
trouble." 

He  shoved  the  window  open,  and,  invigorated  by 
the  fresh  air,  stepped  into  the  corner  of  the  room  ; 
there  he  drew  a  false  plaster  from  around  a  block  of 
stone  forming  a  part  of  the  wall,  fitted  a  ring  and 
staple  into  it,  drew  the  stone  from  its  place,  and  into 
a  dubious-looking  hole  which  it  disclosed  drew  his 
head  and  shoulders  after  his  feet,  that  had  preceded 
them.  At  length  he  emerged,  covered  with  dust,  but 
bearing  a  heaping  handful  of  gold  in  his  palms.  He 
threw  the  coins  on  the  table,  replaced  the  stone  and 
false  plaster,  then  turning,  addressed  the  yellow  pile : 


HO  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"If  you  don't  do  it,  there's  many  times  more  in 
there  that  will."  So  he  was  a  miser  withal.  "  There's 
force  in  the  old  Spanish  proverb,  that  there's  no  lock 
but  a  golden  key  will  open.  If  Kathi  Chichkini 
fail  me,  then  you  must  win  for  me  the  daughter  of 
Count  von  Kramareff."  He  nodded  his  head  slowly, 
and  hung  his  hands  in  the  pockets  of  his  pantaloons. 

Now  all  of  this  disturbance  was  caused  by  nothing 
more  or  less  than  the  over  quick  suspicion  of  Major 
Wolzonn's  nervously  wearied  mind  ;  and  yet  there 
was  some  truth  in  it  all. 

It  was  true  that  the  prince  had  left  his  castle  sud- 
denly, and  had  told  no  one  where  he  was  going  or 
when  he  would  return.  This  oversight,  by  the  way, 
caused  the  fat  old  butler  no  small  inconvenience.  He 
had  always  heretofore  been  intrusted  with  just  so 
much  of  information,  and  had  been  the  "popular 
man"  in  the  house  till  it  all  had  been  urged  out  of 
him.  This  time  having  received  no  information,  and 
being  much  chagrined,  he  lied.  To  lie,  and  sustain 
his  lies,  was  the  inconvenient  part. 

It  was  also  true  that  the  prince  had  started  toward 
Poland,  and  when  the  major  stopped  at  the  post-sta- 
tion the  prince  was  entering  a  little  nest  of  five-and- 
twenty  houses,  ancient  in  architecture,  brown  inside 
and  out  —  yellow-brown  as  a  ripe  russet  rind.  The 
narrow  street  had  low  eaves  stretching  over  it ;  there 
were  rough  stones  for  paving-stones  —  broken  and 
ragged  stones.  There  were  goats  wandering  up  and 
down,  free  as  the  west  wind;  swarms  of  gnats  and 
buzzing  flies  lying  in  the  warm  sun  like  beads  of 
black  poised  in  the  mid-air,  neither  rising  nor  falling. 
There  were  men  sitting  in  the  doorways,  forlorn  as 


THE    SERPENT    TEMPTED    ME.  Ill 

the  crumbling  old  timbers  about  them.  The  women 
were  all  gone  out  to  work,  hoeing  and  reaping,  raising 
just  enough  to  last  till  summer  came  again,  —  no  more, 
for  it  would  only  have  been  wasted,  and  what  was 
the  good  of  that?  All  this  was  Arantha,  unfamous  vil- 
lage, from  which,  however,  comes  the  famed  perfo- 
rated wood-work  that  has  become  itself  famous,  if  not 
the  men  who  stay  at  home  all  day  to  make  it  while 
the  women  sow  and  reap  for  them. 

The  village  inn,  which  was  also  the  post-station, 
boasted  five  rooms  in  all,  —  three  on  the  ground-floor, 
two  under  the  straw.  This  made  a  large  inn,  —  too 
large  for  Arantha.  The  whole  house  was  thrown 
open  to  the  prince,  though  he  traveled  strictly  incog- 
nito. There  was  a  nobility  in  his  bearing  more  potent 
even  than  his  title ;  but,  much  to  the  regret  of  the  fat 
and  gouty  official,  and  in  fact  to  the  regret  of  every 
man  in  the  village,  (for  they  all  turned  out  to  see  the 
new-comer,)  he  chose  one  of  the  little  rooms  under 
the  eaves,  —  the  one  looking  westward.  Why?  Far 
away,  over  the  green  forest,  the  tips  of  the  long  white 
arms  of  a  windmill  were  visible  chasing  each  other 
round  and  round  in  a  never-ending  race.  While  the 
Prince  von  Meerschaum  sat  in  the  little  window,  the 
shadows  lengthened  into  long,  black  lines,  all  point- 
ing from  the  mill  toward  the  inn,  and  objects  down 
below  became  more  and  more  indistinct  and  gray. 
The  hand-cart  in  the  yard,  with  the  chickens  roosting 
upon  it,  — the  dog  gone  to  sleep  in  the  deserted  coop, 
his  head  thrust  through  a  hole  in  the  side  of  it,  —  the 
mound  of  grain,  at  which  a  donkey  and  a  goat  had 
been  nibbling,  because  they  knew  they  would  be 
driven  away  if  caught  at  it,  —  the  stagnant,  green- 


112  CASTLE    FOAM. 

coated  pond,  where  the  fern  and  wild  rush  flourished, 
and  its  circle  of  black  water  at  one  end,  where  ducks 
had  been  skirmishing,  —  all  at  last  were  one  with  the 
twilight.  The  clatter  and  the  chatter  of  the  women 
and  the  children  coming  home  subsided,  and  one  by 
one  the  stars  appeared, — "the  beautiful  evening  star" 
and  her  train  after  her,  —  till  in  the  infinite  dome  all 
the  stars  of  the  summer  night  twinkled,  and  the  moon 
tipped  with  silver  every  leaf  that  shivered  in  the  night- 
wind.  A  night-bird  whistled  to  his  mate,  and  from 
far  away  millward  the  mate  whistled  back  to  him, 
and  a  hawk  or  an  eagle,  belated,  screamed  from  up 
heavenward. 

In  the  window-seat  lay  an  open  journal,  and  watch- 
ing a  linden-leaf,  Victor  Reppoun  whispered  half  in 
prayer,  "  Ah  !  that  the  fingers  that  pressed  this  were 
noble!  She  should  fill  my  halls,  as  she  fills  my 
heart,  with  the  beautiful  face  of  my  mother." 

As  the  sun  crossed  the  meridian  the  next  day,  the 
prince,  alone,  upon  horseback,  skirted  the  mill  in  a 
wide  circle,  saying,  "  I'm  come  not  to  visit  you  to-day,, 
miller  friend  of  mine,  so  pray  grind  away  on  your 
grist,  and  do  not  disturb  yourself  or  me." 

The  long  white  arms  swung  on  obediently,  and  the 
speaker  soon  found  himself  by  the  grotto  that  had 
become  such  an  important  corner  in  his  life ;  the 
gurgling  brook  and  the  mossy  log  looked  lonely 
and  bare ;  for  a  charm  was  wanting  that  would  have 
made  Sahara  fair  as  the  garden  of  the  Euphrates. 
He  sought  further.  A  merry  laugh  drew  him  to- 
ward the  lake.  A  little  nearer,  and  the  prattle  of  a 
tongue  he  had  longed  to  hear  roused  the  dubious 
question, 


THE    SERPENT    TEMPTED    ME.  113 

"Who  is  she  talking  with?  Has  she  found  another 
dismounted  wanderer?"  He  urged  his  horse  close 
upon  the  lake-shore  and  drew  the  limbs  one  side. 

Oh,  world  of  swift  vicissitudes  !  w  Ha  !  "  he  ex- 
claimed, KI  took  her  for  a  type  of  innocence.  I  wor- 
shiped her  as  such.  I  find  her  no  novice  after  all,  but 
see  her  treating  another  man  to  the  same  artfulness 
with  which  she  conquered  me.  Oh,  oh  !  what  a  fool 
I  am  to  place  a  confidence  in  woman  !  "  Which  was 
altogether  as  unjust  as  it  was  cruel ;  but  how  many 
unjust  and  cruel  things  we  do  in  the  course  of  a  life- 
time that  seem  to  us  right  magnanimous  at  the 
time  ! 

A  hollow,  cold,  metallic  laugh  was  his  final  com- 
ment. Those  in  the  boat  heard  it,  started,  listened 
for  an  instant,  then  went  on  with  their  talking. 

Returning  to  the  arbor,  Victor  Reppoun  threw  the 
reins  carelessly  over  a  limb  and  himself  upon  the  log 
cushioned  with  wiry  moss. 

At  first  he  was  disposed  to  open  rebellion.  w  Some 
evil  spirit,"  he  murmured,  "  grumbling  that  my  castle 
home  was  such  a  happy  spot,  has  mixed  a  cup  with 
poison.  Bahr  Sheitan,  the  spray  of  thy  water  is  bitter." 
Gradually  he  subsided  into  melancholy.  "  No,  no.  I 
am  not  created  with  a  heart  to  love  ;  not  even  a  peasant- 
girl.  I  am  branded,  and  forbidden  what  many  taste. 
I  overstepped  the  limit  of  my  life,  and  this  first  misery 
in  many  years  is  because  the  Serpent  tempted  me." 
Then  came  the  moralizing  mood.  He  had  nothing 
to  call  him  away,  nothing  to  interrupt  the  natural 
course  of  metaphysical  wandering ;  and  this  stage 
was  marked  by  a  summing  up  in  the  old  serf  lyric 
that  was  once  the  great  hymn  of  the  down-trodden  : 
8 


II^.  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"  'Living  is  best  to  live, 

That  so  the  seed  may  lie 
For  yonder  reaping-time  to  give 
Good  harvest  by-and-by.' " 

Then  came  repose,  and  the  head  fell  back  upon  the 
arms  on  the  moss  cushion.  Bright-winged  foresters 
chanted  and  caroled  above  him.  Soft  and  silvery  bub- 
bling music  welled  from  the  richest  of  harps  that  na- 
ture plays  upon,  as  it  sparkled  on  its  mission  through 
ferns  and  grasses :  and  white-bells  and  blue-bells 
drooped  on  the  slender  stems  till  their  waxen  petals 
touched  and  kissed  the  laughing  billows,  never  ask- 
ing how  many  blue-bells  had  been  kissed  before,  nor 
telling  how  many  billows  they  should  kiss  afterward. 
Dreamily  the  long-leaved  ferns  swayed  in  the  sum- 
mer breath.  Quivering,  limpid  sunlight  trickling 
through  the  leafy  canopy,  fell  like  beads  of  gold  on 
the  soft  moss  carpeting.  Many-fingered,  trailing 
vines  wound  in  and  out  among  the  branches  drooping 
lowest  from  the  trees,  and  the  breath  from  the  flowers 
that  floated  through  the  arbor  seemed  burdened  with 
Olympian  odors.  Like  Lethean  dew  the  fragrance 
hung  heavy  upon  the  senses  of  its  victim,  till  from 
reverie  he  wandered  into  dream-land,  fancy  after  fancy 
still  enticing  him,  goddesses  of  dream-land  taking  up 
the  silver  cord  and  leading  on. 

So  quietly  this  occurred,  that  never  dreaming  he 
had  dreamed  at  all,  he  opened  his  eyes  again  half  an 
hour  afterward.  The  mists  of  dream  broke  slowly 
into  the  sunlight  of  reality,  for  there  was  something 
peculiar,  not  shocking,  as  oftentimes,  but  very  like 
dream-land  in  the  reality.  As  his  senses  returned  he 
became  conscious  of  a  gentle  voice  not  very  far  away, 


THE    SERPENT    TEMPTED    ME.  115 

murmuring  something  to  no  one  in  particular.  Then 
his  eyes  opened,  and  the  picture  was  still  peculiar. 
Across  his  saddle  hung  a  wreath  of  forest-leaves.  The 
black,  flowing  mane  of  his  horse  was  braided  with 
white-bells.  Here  and  there  a  drop  of  water  sparkled 
on  the  hair,  and  the  voice  said,  "That  is  very  odd. 
Papa  the  miller  charged  me  so  solemnly  the  last  time 
he  was  here,  to  keep  well  out  of  his  way  forever. 
I  think  I  would  run  if  he  should  wake  up,  for  maybe 
papa  the  miller  is  right,  but  here  I  have  made  sure 
and  got  well  into  his  way  instead.  I  wonder  if  he 
can  be  such  a  terrible  villain  ?  I  don't  believe  it  — 
not  a  word  of  it ;  and  if  I'd  known  that  he  was  here 
I  wouldn't  have  waited  half  so  long  for  Signor  Gio- 
vanni to  paint  the  mill,  for  all  papa  told  me  to.  I 
think  he  likes  Signor  Giovanni  just  because  he  is  not 
a  nobleman.  Yes,  it  is  odd.  The  first  time  I  see 
him  he  is  half  drowned  in  a  brook ;  the  last  time  he 
is  sound  asleep  on  a  log  hardly  so  large  around  as  he 
himself;  and  that's  not  the  oddest  either." 

The  temptation  was  too  great.  The  eyes  opened 
wide,  and  the  prince,  leaning  on  his  elbow,  asked, 
with  a  smile  that  betrayed  more  of  his  admiration 
than  he  would  have  ventured  to  confess  even  to  him- 
self, "And  what  is  the  oddest  of  all,  ma  $ctitel" 

With  a  startled  cry  she  shrank  back  against  a 
great  tree-trunk,  as  though  it  would  protect  her  little 
self  from  anything ;  aye,  cover  her,  if  need  be,  with 
its  great  ragged  husk.  And  why  not?  Was  she  not 
the  child  of  those  forest-trees?  —  their  foundling? 
Long,  bright  days  with  them,  and  even  long  starry 
nights  with  them,  year  in  and  year  out,  winter  and 
summer  with  them,  calling  each  one  by  a  name, 


Il6  CASTLE    FOAM. 

worshiping  in  them  mother,  father,  brother,  sister, 
aye,  God  too,  sometimes ;  they  seemed  such  strong, 
protecting,  omnipotent  things,  did  it  not  constitute 
them  hers,  and  she  their  child?  What  was  more 
natural  then,  when  suddenly  finding  herself  in  such 
an  unmaidenly,  perhaps  dangerous  predicament,  than 
that  she  should  fly  for  help  to  a  hard-hearted,  gnarled, 
and  rugged,  rough-skinned  forest  king?  Was  she 
not  his  child? 

How  beautiful  she,  cringing  there,  her  eyes  upon 
the  ground,  her  cheeks  bright  with  a  tinge  of  shame 
and  fear,  her  fingers  idly  playing  with  the  flowers 
gathered  in  her  apron,  the  Prince  Reppoun  alone 
could  tell ;  but  father  and  daughter,  the  powerful  and 
the  helpless,  made  a  picture  that  melted  into  a  warm, 
full  summer  lake  even  "  Le  cceur  glac6" 

More  than  a  week  went  by,  hastened  by  frequent 
and  long  meetings,  yet  neither  knew  more  of  the  oth- 
er than  that  each  in  their  own  peculiar  fashion  loved 
the  other,  though  neither  had  spoken  such  a  word  as 
"love."  From  her  suspicion  that  all  noblemen  were 
what  her  "  papa  the  miller  "  had  been  pleased  to  call 
them,  Kathi  Chichkini  began  to  wonder  that  this  first 
romance  of  her  life  had  been  so  utterly  different  from 
all  of  which  her  limited  reading,  and  more  limited 
hearing,  had  given  her  any  insight.  The  prince  had 
not  so  much  as  kissed  her  hand  again,  and  while  her 
adoration  was  quite  content  to  bask  in  the  sunlight 
of  his  presence,  content  to  live,  knowing  he  was 
not  far  away,  perfectly  happy  if  so  be  he  smiled, 
which  he  often  did,  yet  in  spite  of  the  very  prim 
notions  of  life  with  which  the  good  priest  Arantha 
had  inspired  her,  and  which  the  miller  had  warmly 


THE    SERPENT    TEMPTED    ME.  117 

seconded,  she  was  sometimes  tempted  to  wish  she 
had  not  struck  him  quite  so  hard  with  her  boat-rope, 
and  made  up  her  mind,  with  as  much  force  as  was 
her  wont,  that  the  miller  was  entirely  mistaken. 

It  was  just  this  impression  which  Victor  Reppoun 
intended  to  convey,  and  for  more  than  one  reason. 
He  had  plainly  seen  that  the  girl's  mind  was  preju- 
diced for  some  cause,  good  or  bad,  by  "  Papa  the 
miller."  He  had  an  insane  idea,  too,  that  he  could 
see  her  for  a  week,  satisfy  the  strange  feeling  of  ad- 
miration she  had  aroused,  and  leave  her  as  happy  or 
happier  than  he  had  found  her,  if  he  spoke  nothing, 
acted  nothing  that  should  so  much  as  intimate  more 
than  passing  pleasure  in  her  company.  Giving  him- 
self certain  license,  certain  restraint  in  these  set 
bounds,  he  had  been  wonderfully  happy.  He  had 
not  found  a  peasant  girl,  but  one  in  mind  very 
nearly  an  equal,  while  in  body  possessing  all  the 
charms  of  rare  and  refined  beauty  untarnished  by  the 
falsifying  world.  Unconsciously  he  had  been  too 
happy,  and  as  the  thought  pressed  itself  upon  his 
mind  that  he  must  return  to  his  castle,  that  the  sum- 
mer would  shortly  be  gone,  and  that  a  post-station 
was  not  a  place  that  could  long  shelter  a  prince  with- 
out question,  another  accompanied  it  to  the  end  that 
if  out  of  her  sight  there  would  always  be  a  longing, 
always  an  emptiness  where  his  heart  should  be. 

She  had  indeed  grown  daily  more  lovely,  as  one 
such  must  in  the  presence  of  the  polished  Prince  von 
Meerschaum.  Alas  !  she  was  a  low-born  country- 
girl,  while  the  name  of  Reppoun  was  older  than  the 
foundations  of  Russia,  and  that  of  Meerschaum  almost 
twin-born  with  St.  Petersburg,  without  a  drop  of  low- 


Il8  CASTLE  FOAM. 

born  blood  in  all  the  line :  so  thought  the  prince. 
He  was  certainly  no  man  to  do  a  cruel  thing,  little  as 
Russia's  morality  was  educated,  and  yet — ! 

Just  this  turn  of  thought,  "  and  yet,"  the  prince  had 
been  struggling  with  himself  to  conquer  and  arrive 
at  some  conclusion,  as  he  took  the  narrow  lane  lead- 
ing behind  the  mill  and  lake  for  that  hour,  happiest 
of  the  day,  when  he  was  to  meet  her  by  the  arbor. 
"Ah  ! "  he  exclaimed,  while  his  heart  beat  fast,  "there 
is  not  a  life  in  Russia  to  compare  with  that,  and  yet, 
because  that  is  not  titled,  I  —  !  Away  !  Yet  how 
could  it  be  a  cruelty  to  better  her  position  a  hundred- 
fold? I  will  at  least  lift  her  from  this  desolation.  I 
will  take  her  to  St.  Petersburg,  where  she  shall  know 
to  her  satisfaction  all  there  is  to  know,  live  in  royal 
style,  and  enjoy  life  to  the  full.  Curses  on  nobility 
that  I  cannot  marry  her  ! " 

With  Kathi  Chichkini  the  feeling  was  strangely 
similar  and  dissimilar ;  and  this  morning,  too,  put 
her  heart  to  the  test.  The  miller  had  been  to  the 
village  the  night  before  to  inspect  this  stranger  of 
whom  he  had  heard  much  report.  He  had  been  pet- 
rified to  find  him  the  same  stranger  of  whom  he  had 
been  warned  before  by  two,  who,  he  rightfully  or 
wrongfully  considered,  had  a  right  to  warn  him.  In 
the  morning  Kathi  had  been  questioned  sharply.  Her 
nature  rebelled  at  an  untruth.  She  frankly  told  him 
she  had  seen  the  nobleman  and  found  him  very  agree- 
able. The  miller  began  to  rave  madly  with  his  tongue, 
and  stamp  the  floor  with  his  heavy,  home-made  boots. 
This  was  what  she  had  looked  for  and  hoped  for,  — 
a  bit  of  diplomacy,  if  you  please.  The  little  body, 
great  Cerberus  close  beside  her,  reprimanded  the  mil- 


THE    SERPENT    TEMPTED    ME.  Up 

ler,  calling  him  not  "  Papa,"  but  by  his  given  name, 
as  one  having  authority.  She  cunningly  and  with 
amusing  dignity,  not  without  majesty  after  all,  de- 
clined to  say  more  to  him  on  any  subject  whatever, 
retired  to  her  room  with  Cerberus,  requesting  the 
miller,  as  she  went,  to  lock  the  door  as  of  old  upon 
the  outside,  —  "as,"  she  added,  "I  shall  lock  it  on 
the  inside,  and  keep  it  locked  till  I  am  ready  to  come 
out." 

The  threat  she  carried  out.  Indeed,  she  kept  the 
door  locked  longer,  for  it  was  still  fast  when  she  met 
the  prince  upon  the  lake.  Possibly  Cerberus  could 
have  told  how  it  all  came  about ;  at  all  events,  when 
the  miller,  quite  broken-hearted,  knocked  on  the  door 
to  beg  the  child  to  forgive  him,  the  dog  answered,  as 
if  fully  equal  to  the  situation,  with  such  a  low,  sugges- 
tive growl,  that  he  went  away  again,  saying,  "Lord, 
she  is  angry  enough  this  time,  sure ;  but  how  could  I 
help  it?" 

The  thought  uppermost  in  Kathi  Chichkini's  mind 
was  not,  however,  of  her  confinement;  she  cared 
very  little  for  that ;  but  that  it  was  a  bar  upon  her 
seeing  more  of  one  who  had  become  almost  a  god 
to  her. 

This  was  the  bitter  blow.  Her  life,  a  desert,  with 
but  a  chance  oasis  here  and  there,  in  book  or  prayer, 
a  long  association  with  the  illiterate  and  uneducated, 
though  she  bore  it  with  a  simple  virtue  that  made  her 
the  Angel  of  Arantha,  was  yet  hard  at  the  best, 
doubly  hard  in  prospect,  since  for  a  week  it  had  blos- 
somed like  a  rose.  Her  thoughts,  as  she  waited  for 
the  prince,  were  sad  enough,  for  when  they  parted 
now,  she  must  tell  him  it  must  be  the  last.  Deceit 


I2O  CASTLE    FOAM. 

was  doubtless  within  her  power,  strategy  at  least,  but 
not  within  the  choices  of  her  life.  So  far  from  it,  that 
she  had  nerved  herself  to  sacrifice  the  pleasure  she  had 
so  innocently  enjoyed,  rather  than  deceive  further 
even  the  old  miller  of  Arantha. 

"  Look,  how  the  lake  sparkles  in  the  sun  ! "  she  said 
to  him,  after  the  first  commonplace  greetings  were 
over.  A  stubborn  sob  died  on  her  lips,  where  it  met 
a  spirit  stronger  than  the  flesh. 

"  I  cannot  look  at  it,  my  lady.  To  do  it  I  must  take 
my  eyes  from  you." 

He  had  never  spoken  such  words,  nor  in  such  a 
voice  before.  Why  did  he  choose  to-day?  It  would 
make  the  parting  as  much  more  bitter  as  the  words 
were  sweet  to  her ;  and  yet  at  the  words  her  heart 
gave  a  happy  bound,  that  had  lain  as  heavy  as  lead 
before.  She  looked  up,  much  as  she  would  have 
said  "Thank  you"  had  he  said,  "What  a  pretty  dress 
you  have  ! "  She  was  happy  that  she  had  pleased 
him.  She  did  not  dream  that  he  loved  her ;  he  had 
given  her  no  cause  for  that,  and  indeed  she  was  sen- 
sible withal.  It  was  plain  that  he  enjoyed  the  hour 
or  two  each  day  that  he  spent  with  her,  and  she  alone 
knew  how  earnestly  her  task  had  been  performed  to 
make  herself  pleasing  ;  for  from  the  first  joy  of  nov- 
elty he  had  rapidly  become  all  in  all  to  her,  which 
she  fully  comprehended.  She  knew  that  she  loved 
him  just  as  noble  ladies  loved,  or  as  she  supposed 
they  loved,  with  all  her  heart  and  life,  never  dream- 
ing, however,  of  more  reward  than  such  a  look  and 
smile  as  that  bestowed  with  his  last  words.  Both 
happier  and  sadder  she  looked  up,  a  deep  blush  mak- 
ing her  cheek  more  beautiful  as  she  courtesied  in  the 


THE    SERPENT    TEMPTED    ME.  121 

quaint  peasant  style,  and  answered  in  her  own  quaint 
style  : 

"That's  odd,  sire." 

She  had  not  seemed  like  herself  before,  and  the 
prince  hailed  with  delight  this  return. 

"  And  what  is  it  now?"  he  asked. 

"  You  are  rather  odd  yourself,"  she  replied, 
struggling  hard  to  drag  a  smile  through  the  tears 
that  crowded  on  the  threshold.  "I  wish  I  were  a 
man." 

"  And  what  would  you  do?  " 

"I  know  what  I  would  not  be,  whatever  I  might  do 
to  accomplish  it.  I  would  not  be  a  peasant." 

"  And  what  then  ?     A  seigneur  ?  " 

"No,  sire.  I  despise  that  man  who  holds  the  soul 
of  an  equal  beneath  his  heel.  But  I  would  be  a 
savant." 

It  was  a  bold  speech  for  the  little  statesman,  but  a 
speech  which  had  a  meaning  deeper  than  a  passing 
"hate,"  as  she  proved  afterward. 

The  prince  might  have  argued  the  policy  of  serf- 
dom, might  have  declared  that  his  and  many  serfs 
were  better,  far  better  off  than  they  could  be  other- 
wise, might  have  said  a  hundred  things  in  justifica- 
tion, but  his  thoughts  were  otherwise  bent. 

"  Do  you  know,  ma  petite  "  he  continued,  after  a 
moment's  thought  how  best  to  say  what  he  had  to 
say,  "  I  am  not  at  all  sorry  that  you  are  not  a  man?  " 

"  And  why  not,  sire  ?  " 

"Because  I  am  selfish.  Because  there  lacks  but 
one  thing  to  make  my  happiness  complete,  or  make 
me  altogether  unhappy  —  " 

What  was  it  that  so  suddenly  made  her  cheeks  burn 


122  CASTLE    FOAM. 

like  live  coals,  and  her  heart  beat  hard,  almost  hard 
enough  to  burst  the  peasant  bodice?  Not  even  in  the 
moonlight,  all  alone,  had  she  dared  to  dream  it. 
Were  the  prison-bars  breaking?  Were  the  shackles 
falling  off  ?  Was  the  world  and  freedom  coming  to 
her  feet? 

"  Can  one  thing  be  so  powerful  ?  "  she  asked,  hardly 
knowing  whether  she  spoke  or  \vhat  she  said,  for 
some  madness  of  joy  whispered  in  her  heart  that  it 
was  Kathi  Chichkini. 

"  One  little  thing,  only  one,  —  only  this,  to  have  you 
near  me  forever,  beautiful  Kathi  Chichkini." 

Ah !  the  world  floated  and  swam  about  her,  daz- 
zlingly beautiful,  yet  all  unseen.  The  greattree  against 
which  she  was  leaning  seemed  shrinking  away  from 
her.  Let  it  go.  She  had  no  more  need  of  it.  She 
saw  but  one  figure  before  her,  —  how  strong !  how 
noble  !  She  felt  his  powerful  arm  about  her,  she  did 
not  shrink  from  it.  That  was  her  consent.  He 
pressed  a  kiss  on  her  burning  cheek.  Why  should 
she  prevent  it?  The  dreary  past  shrank  like  a  dark 
spirit  before  the  bright  future.  He  supported  her  bet- 
ter than  the  trees ;  he  could  protect  her  better.  In 
all  the  endearing  names  she  had  ever  called  them, 
"lover,"  "husband,"  had  never  sounded.  She  could 
leave  them  all  without  a  sigh  for 

"  A  nearer  one  still, 
And  a  dearer  one 
Yet,  than  all  other." 

So  after  all  there  was  to  be  no  bitter  pang  of  part- 
ing, no  life-long  heartaches  for  the  bright,  brief  joy 
of  the  past  summer  time. 

"  Me  !  "  she  whispered  at  last,  when  to  still  the  beat- 


THE    SERPENT    TEMPTED    ME.  123 

ing  of  her  heart  she  must  say  something.  "  Take  me 
with  you  to  the  capital  ?  " 

"  To  St.  Petersburg,  dear  one  ;  will  you  go?  " 

She  looked  up  with  those  large,  black  eyes,  from 
whence  distrust  had  long  ago  vanished.  He  averted 
his  face,  for  a  shadow  of  shame  stung  him  withal. 

"And  live  in  a  real  city?"  She  clasped  his  hand 
in  hers.  His  hand  was  cold,  icy  cold.  It  almost 
made  her  shiver. 

"  In  a  real  city,  ma  -petite ." 

"  And  see  the  grand  sights  you  have  told  me  of?  " 

"And  live  in  grand  apartments." 

"  And  have  you  near  me  ?  "  she  whispered. 

"  Till  the  grave  covers  me." 

"  And  —  and  —  "  Her  voice  dropped  so  low  that  he 
leaned  forward,  till  his  face  touched  hers,  to  catch  the 
words.  "And — " 

"And  what,  bright  angel  mine?" 

"And  be  —  your  wife ?  " 

By  some  strange  instinct  she  loosed  her  clasp  from 
the  cold  hand.  It  fell  like  lead.  The  prince  stag- 
gered, muttered  to  himself,  "  Good  God  !  she  does  not 
understand  me ; "  then  summoning  all  the  strength 
that  would  serve  him  in  such  an  unwonted  emergency, 
he  fell  upon  one  knee,  already  in  an  attitude  to  beg 
for  mercy,  and  gasped,  "  Everything,  lady  mine ! 
All  shall  be  yours  !  My  wealth,  and  all  that  it  will 
bring  you.  Myself,  my  only  love,  my  «//,  except 
my  name.  Alas  !  that  I  cannot  give  —  " 

Who  was  that  that  stood  before  him  ?  A  faint  cry 
caused  him  to  lift  his  eyes  that  would  rather  have  rested 
on  the  ground,  and  the  word  he  would  have  spoken 
fell  dead  upon  his  tongue.  Where  was  the  timid, 


124  CASTLE    FOAM. 

half  frightened  peasant  girl  that  a  moment  before  had 
lain  so  full  of  confidence  in  his  embrace?  Gone! 
Who  stood  there  in  her  place  ?  It  was  Kathi  Chich- 
kini  still,  but  a  proud,  insulted  woman,  with  an  im- 
perious gesture  bidding  him  be  silent.  Pale  and  cold 
she  stood  there,  those  black  eyes  buried  in  his  very 
heart. 

She  spoke  at  last,  her  little  hand  still  extended,  and 
every  feature  of  her  face  interlaced  with  scorn.  "  I 
thought,  sire,"  she  said,  "that  you  were  a  nobleman, 
and  that  you  loved  a  mother.  Beware  her  wrath,  for 
she  was  a  woman  too." 

She  turned  from  him  like  the  changing  wind.  Be- 
fore he  could  speak  a  word  of  defense,  had  there  been 
one,  she  was  shooting  over  the  lake  in  her  light 
canoe. 

"  Oh,  heavens  !  why  did  I  say  it?  "  he  cried  in  de- 
spair. "  Why  did  I  throw  a  pearl  away  richer  than 
all  her  kind?" 

Long  and  silently  Victor  Reppoun  stood  there, 
looking  after  the  retreating  figure.  Long,  long  did 
clouds  of  remorse  and  shame  darken  every  prospect 
of  his  life.  Long  he  repented  in  sackcloth  and  ashes  ; 
and  long  after  the  canoe  and  the  rower,  and  the  old 
mill  yonder,  were  out  of  sight  and  far  away,  he  beat 
his  breast,  and  cried  again,  "  Yes  !  yes  !  it  was  the 
serpent  that  tempted  me,  and  the  more's  the  bitter 
shame  for  me  that  I  did  eat." 


A   PRINCESS    OVER    CASTLE   FOAM.  125 


CHAPTER    XI. 

THE  WORLD   SHALL   SEE   A  PRINCESS   OVER 
CASTLE   FOAM. 

"  '  Life  de  bonair  is  everywhere, 

And  yet  a  charm  is  wanting  there,'" 

SAID  the  Prince  Reppoun,  as  he  sat  smoking  with 
Heinrich  Charlovitz,  shortly  after  his  return 
from  the  second  trip  to  Poland,  and  the  person  ad- 
dressed answered  frankly,  and  yet  as  may  appear  to 
some  deceitfully,  "  I  think  the  prince  should  have  a 
wife." 

Now  Heinrich  Charlovitz  was,  in  some  respects, 
what  is  commonly  called  K  a  character ;  "  in  other  re- 
spects he  was  thoroughly  "  a  man  ;  "  and  still  a  third 
side  of  him  presented  a  most  excellent  priest.  He  was 
young,  younger  than  the  prince  by  a  few  years,  and  this 
enviable  parish  was  his  first.  He  was  father  in  sacred 
things  over  the  little  village  of  Schaumburg,  just  below 
the  castle ;  Schaumburg,  so  christened  by  Peter  the 
Great  himself,  a  lovely  little  village,  built  in  exact  fac- 
simile of  the  great  Petersburg,  as  it  was  in  those  early 
days.  Father  Charlovitz  was  nobly  born,  which, 
perhaps,  accounted  in  some  measure  for  this  first  suc- 
cess. He  was  exceedingly  ambitious  withal,  and  had 
made  his  first  duty,  beyond  the  limits  of  the  little 
church,  that  of  fastening  himself  in  cordial  friendship 


126  CASTLE    FOAM. 

to  the  master  of  the  castle.  This  was  easily  accom- 
plished, for  Heinrich  Charlovitz  was  in  every  way  an 
attractive,  entertaining  man,  and  Victor  Reppoun 
thought  much  of  him.  He  laughed  at  the  priest's 
comment,  and  answered  : 

"  I  tell  you,  father,  my  chances  are  poor.  I  know 
of  none  that  please  me,  even  supposing  I  pleased 
them." 

The  priest  smiled.  He  had  marvelously  white  teeth  ; 
they  shone  like  ivory  when  he  smiled. 

"My  lord  is  looking  at  buds,"  he  said,  "and  com- 
paring them  with  flowers  that  have  blossomed  for 
other  men.  They  too  were  buds,  and  other  buds  will 
blossom,  if  my  lord  transplants  them,  till  they  sur- 
prise him  with  their  beauty.  But  let  me  say  this 
much,  my  lord  :  Brightest  in  bud  is  not  best  in  flower. 
The  sacred  lotos  of  the  Nile,  the  Syrian  valley-lily, 
are  of  the  most  uncomely  budlings.  The  virgin 
Queen  Elizabeth  was  in  her  girlhood  called  '  The 
Homely  ; '  and  Marie  Antoinette,  '  La  Grossiere  ; ' 
but  England's  court  and  the  paradise  of  Louis  XVI. 
made  rare  flowers  of  them.  May  I  tell  an  Eastern 
fable,  please,  my  lord?  " 

"  Tell  it,  father ;  but  beware  !  I  know  you ;  you 
sugar-coat  your  bitterest  pills  with  Eastern  fables." 

"There  is  no  pill  here,"  said  the  priest,  smiling. 
"It  is  simply  of  a  king  who  sought  a  bird  that, 
sweetest  of  all  singing-birds,  should  fill  his  courts 
with  melody.  His  courtiers  had  tried  in  vain,  and 
the  king  himself  went  upon  the  mission.  He  came 
upon  a  brook.  Bathing  in  it  was  a  bird  with  back  so 
brown  it  could  hardly  be  distinguished  from  the 
rocks.  '  The  best  of  subjects  for  a  bribe  !  '  the  king 


A  PRINCESS  OVER  CASTLE  FOAM.       127 

thought,  .and  spoke,  'O  bird!  I  seek  the  sweetest 
songster  of  the  world  to  charm  my  weariness ;  find 
me  the  bird,  and  your  reward  shall  be  a  crown  of 
gold  and  a  necklace  of  gold  wrought  by  my  most 
skillful  workmen.'  fO  king!'  the  bird  replied,  'if 
a  bird's  song  can  please  thee  I  will  go;  but  spare 
thy  crown  and  necklace,  for  which  I  could  find  no 
use.'  The  king  was  angry.  He  threw  a  stone  at  her 
and  cried,  'Then  get  you  gone,  brown-backed  con- 
ceitedness  ! '  She  sprang  into  the  air.  Her  breast 
and  under-body  were  of  purest  white.  Her  wings 
and  tail  were  white  and  tipped  with  crimson.  There 
was  a  knot  of  crimson  on  her  breast.  As  the  feathers 
of  her  neck  were  ruffled,  a  band  of  yellow  appeared, 
richer  than  the  work  of  the  king's  most  cunning  beat- 
ers, and  on  her  head  a  coronet  of  yellow,  white,  and 
crimson.  She  sang  him  a  song,  too,  as  she  floated 
away,  that  to  his  dying  day  left  nothing  more  for  him 
but  discords.  That  is  all  of  it,  my  lord  ;  yet,  after  all, 
think  of  it,"  said  the  priest,  rising.  He  was  tall,  ath- 
letic, and  handsome,  —  a  man  made  to  stand  rather 
than  to  sit,  and  one  who  always  took  occasion  to  rise 
when  he  would  say  "  N.  B."  As  he  walked  toward 
the  door  he  added,  "  Tell  me,  the  next  time  I  see  you, 
that  I  am  right." 

The  prince  was  hardly  left  alone  when,  strolling 
out  upon  the  lawn,  toward  the  broad  lake  that  was 
the  pride  of  the  castle,  he  mused  with  a  sigh  :  "Al- 
ready I  could  say  to  him,  Good  Father  Charlovitz, 
you  are  altogether  right.  I  must  have  a  wife  —  must 
have,  unless  I  turn  traitor  to  Meerschaum.  And 
again  you  are  right.  I  have  seen  the  lotos  bud  and 
blossom  on  the  Nile,  and  on  the  Jordan  and  Meandre 


128  CASTLE    FOAM. 

picked  the  lily  of  the  valley.  Yes,  and  I  have  seen 
a  brown-backed  bird  in  the  forests  of  Poland,  with 
a  heart  that  was  purer  and  whiter  than  snow.  What 
did  I  do  with  her?  And  that  song,  as  she  floated  away 
from  me,  r  I  thought,  sire,  that  you  were  a  nobleman, 
and  that  you  loved  a  mother.  Beware  her  wrath  !  for 
she  was  a  woman  too,'  will  doubtless  render  life  a 
very  discord  to  .the  end.  No,  no  ;  I  can  never  atone 
to  her  or  me  for  that  bitter  blundering.  It  must  burn 
and  torture  here.  Yet  I  must  have  a  wife.  I  cannot 
have  my  choice.  I  will  take  whatever  bird  may  come, 
good  singer  or  ill.  I  will  open  the  cage-door,  and 
say,  '  Come,  if  you. wish  to  come  ;  '  or,  better,  I  will 
say  to  Father  Charlovitz,  'Find  me  a  wife;'  and 
though  I  strike  on  Scylla  to  escape  Charybdis,  the 
world  shall  see  a  princess  over  Castle  Foam." 

"My  master!"  said  a  soft  voice  behind  him.  A 
page  knelt,  trembling,  on  the  grass.  Not  one  of  his 
servants  but  trembled  to  meet  him  since  his  return 
from  Poland ;  yet  he  had  never  beaten  one  since  his 
boyhood. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked,  almost  angrily. 

"  My  master,  I  am  sent  to  ask  if  your  Highness 
wishes  the  coach  or  the  saddle  to-day." 

"Neither."  The  boy  touched  the  earth  with  his 
forehead  and  hurried  away. 

"  Stay  !  I  will  settle  this  while  I  am  courageous," 
said  the  prince,  and  called  after  the  page.  "Go  to  the 
Italian  hall,  and  from  the  mosaic  table  bring  me  a 
Byzantine  jewel-box."  The  boy  disappeared,  and 
the  prince  repeated,  "  I  will  settle  this  while  I  am 
brave,  once  and  forever." 


A  PRINCESS  OVER  CASTLE  FOAM.        129 

Ah!  but  "  forever  "  is  a  longer  time  than  he,  or 
any  of  his  kind,  have  ever  measured. 

He  stood  looking  into  the  lake  till  the  boy  returned. 
Thinking,  perhaps,  of  the  nature  that  was  mirrored 
there  in  a  picture  more  perfect  apparently  than  the 
original,  or  of  the  picture  in  his  heart  of  the  dryadic 
Kathi,  or  of  his  own  past  life  when  compared  with 
that  about  him  and  before  him,  he  murmured  that 
old  world- wide  proverb,  in  its  original  Italian,  "  Dis- 
tance lends  enchantment  to  the  view." 

The  jewel-box  was  a  gem,  one  of  the  finest  speci- 
mens of  that  style  of  Roman  workmanship.  On  the 
cover,  rough,  irregular  tiles,  in  wonderfully  soft  and 
beautiful  harmony,  represented  the  Thorn-Crowned 
Head,  after  the  fresco  of  Guido  in  the  Pauline  Chapel 
at  Santa  Maria  Maggiore.  He  pressed  his  finger  on 
a  flashing  diamond  that  covered  the  spring.  The  lid 
flew  open.  The  box  was  lined  with  silver. 

"Little  box, "said  he,  "  you  are  my  rarest  gem  from 
Italy,  but  none  too  rich  a  mausoleum  for  the  relic  that 
binds  me  to  the  purest  pearl  that  ever  lay  deep  in  a 
cavern,  out  of  the  way  of  the  surging  sea  of  treach- 
erous humanity." 

He  tore  the  leaf  with  "In  memoriam"  out  of  his 
journal,  and  leaving,  where  it  lay  upon  it,  the  linden 
leaf,  put  the  two  into  the  jewel-box,  bound  a  smooth 
stone  over  the  cover  to  make  it  sink,  then,  pressing  a 
farewell  kiss  upon  the  tiny  casket,  he  turned  his  head 
away,  and  threw  it  with  all  his  strength  over  the 
lake. 

He  heard  the  splash  in  the  water  far  away,  as  it 
sank  to  the  bottom  —  into  oblivion?  and  the  sound 
echoed  as  a  knell  over  the  water,  fell  into  the  prince's 
9 


130  CASTLE    FOAM. 

heart,  there  too  to  sink  to  the  bottom,  the  very  bottom 
—  into  oblivion  ? 

He  looked  over  the  lake  again.  The  ripples  had 
nearly  died  away.  With  a  sigh,  he  said,  "  So  may 
memory  of  the  one  who  picked  that  leaf  fade  out  of 
my  heart  and  die  !  " 

There  is,  I  think,  a  philosophy  that  a  ripple  on  the 
sea,  as  a  vibration  in  the  air,  must  go  on  and  on  for- 
ever, never  to  fade  out  and  die,  till  wandering  into 
eternity,  each  shall  join  in  a  cloud  of  witnesses  whis- 
pering of  the  tongue  and  hand  that  caused  it,  "  Thou 
art  the  man  !  " 

But  let  them  go.  What  harm?  They  are  nothing 
but  sounds,  nothing  but  ripples,  after  all. 

Forthwith  the  prince  dismissed  the  matter  from  his 
thoughts,  and  returned  to  the  castle,  where  he  found 
Major  Wolzonn  awaiting  him.  It  was  the  first  time 
they  had  met  since  the  officer's  hasty  departure  from 
Round  Lake,  and  his  mission  to-day  was  very  much 
what  it  had  been  when  he  had  found  the  gates  closed 
a  month  before.  He  was  nervous,  ill  at  ease,  and 
wholly  without  connection  in  the  thread  of  thought 
running  through  his  conversation.  In  truth,  he  was 
trying  in  every  possible  way  to  find  out  what  more 
the  prince  had  seen  than  a  hermit  and  a  horse,  and 
each  failure  to  learn  anything,  simply  because  the 
prince  had  nothing  whatever  to  tell,  made  him  yet 
more  at  random  in  his  thrusts. 

In  despair,  he  struck  at  last  at  the  root  of  the  whole 
matter,  and  because  he  received  the  very  answer  he 
had  been  looking  for  he  was  driven  almost  wild. 

"And  what  have  you  been  doing  in  the  past  month, 
my  lord?"  he  asked,  and  the  answer  that  troubled  him 
was,  "I  have  been  trying  to  solve  a  mystery." 


A  PRINCESS  OVER  CASTLE  FOAM.       13! 

r  I  knew  it,  I  knew  it,  and  all  is  lost !  "  groaned  the 
officer,  hardly  caring  whether  the  groan  died  beneath 
his  moustache  or  went  further.  But  as  he  must  say 
something,  he  repeated,  "A  mystery?" 

"A  remarkably  simple  one  when  once  deduced," 
added  the  prince,  making  matters  so  much  the  worse. 

"  Oh,  damnation ! "  said  the  officer  to  the  inner 
man,  with  a  terrible  sinking  at  his  heart;  and  aloud, 
"My  lord,  you  speak  a  problem.  I  cannot  under- 
stand." 

"A  problem?  No.  You  flatter  me.  It  was  simply 
what  I  told  you,  a  passing  mystery,  that  some  men 
would  have  solved  for  me  in  a  twinkling.  It  has 
taken  me  the  month." 

"  And  who  ?  "  gasped  the  officer  ;  and  to  the  inner 
man  he  said  again,  "As  sure  as  destiny,  he  means 
me  !  Aye,  I  am  done  for  !  By  the  gods,  I  am  !  How 
calmly  he  charges  me,  as  though  'twere  but  the  trick 
of  a  holiday  !  "  The  answer  was  not  instantaneous, 
and  he  asked  again,  "  Who,  my  lord,  who  could  have 
solved  it?"  and  strangely  enough,  when  it  came,  the 
answer  was  precisely  what  he  had  prophesied,  yet  it 
acted  like  a  death-blow. 

The  prince  had  started  a  little  at  the  first  ejacula- 
tion "Who?"  just  enough  to  scatter  the  ashes  from 
his  cigarette  over  his  embroidered  coat,  and  he  was 
bachelor  enough  to  stop  then  and  there,  forgetting 
everything  else  under  heaven,  till  the  last  vestige  of 
an  ash-flake  had  been  brushed  away.  It  was  while 
engaged  at  this  that  the  second  "  Who  ?"  drew  from 
him,  in  an  absent-minded  way,  "Why,  you,"  and  in 
a  lower  tone,  not  a  word  of  which  the  officer  heard, 
"or  any  other  man  of  like  good  sense." 


132  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"  Oh  !  "  groaned  the  major.  The  prince  looked  up 
from  his  work.  His  lips  were  white,  his  nostrils  dis- 
tended, his  mouth  open,  his  eyes  staring  in  a  be- 
wildered way  nowhere  in  particular,  his  cigarette 
smoking  all  by  itself  upon  the  floor,  his  hands  hang- 
ing helplessly  over  his  knees.  It  was  all  so  comical 
that,  losing  the  serious  side,  the  prince  fell  back  on 
his  divan  convulsed  with  laughter,  supposing  it  all  an 
extraordinarily  well-planned  joke  on  his  part  as  well 
as  the  officer's.  Once  slain  to  have  discovered  what 
he  supposed  he  had  discovered,  twice  slain  to  be  told 
of  it  with  such  abundant  merriment,  the  major  lost  the 
last  atom  of  self-control,  and  springing  to  his  feet,  he 
exclaimed  madly  : 

"Aye,  so,  my"  lord  !  I  bow  !  I  grant  it !  What  then? 
Is  not  the  knave  enough  without  making  the  fool  of 
me  as  well  ?  " 

The  prince  ceased  laughing  as  suddenly  as  he  be- 
gan, and  turned  slowly  on  the  divan  till  eye  to  eye  he 
met  the  excited  officer.  They  looked  at  each  other 
for  an  instant,  one  scarcely  less  amazed  than  the  other, 
when  the  prince  spoke. 

"By  all  immortal,  Constantine  Wolzonn,  what  is 
the  matter?  "  And  Constantine  Wolzonn  did  not  know. 
It  suddenly  became  self-evident  that  there  had  been 
a  blunder,  and  that  he  had  committed  it.  He  seized 
his  forehead  between  his  palms  as  though  he  would 
have  it  pulverized  without  delay,  and  sinking  on  to 
the  divan,  said  in  a  hoarse  whisper : 

"My  lord,  I  have  not  been  well  for  a  week.  What 
were  you  saying?  I  hardly  gave  attention." 

"I  should  think  not,"  said  the  prince,  shrugging 
his  shoulders  and  shaking  his  head  over  the  prostrate 


A    PRINCESS    OVER    CASTLE    FOAM.  133 

form  much  as  a  fond  father  would  say,  "Poor  boy! 
poor  boy  !  His  conscience  is  tottering  under  a  heavy 
load  ! "  though  the  major  was  nine  years  his  senior 
in  life  —  life  measured  by  sunrises.  Then  he  turned 
resolutely  away,  —  it  evidently  required  resolution, — 
and  as  he  rang  furiously  for  wine  he  said  to  himself, 
"  I  have,  known  for  years  that  something  was  wrong 
there,  but  I  will  still  let  it  go.  He  is  far  from  a  hard- 
ened criminal.  No,  he  will  never  be  one.  There  is 
a  good  fellow  hidden  there,  and  something  will  hap- 
pen some  day  to  rid  him  of  his  burden,  whatever  it  is." 

The  major  roused  to  drink  the  wine  that  was  offered, 
then,  like  one  in  a  dream,  he  asked  : 

"What  was  it  you  said,  my  lord?" 

"Why,  this,  in  short,"  replied  the  prince,  wholly 
ignoring  the  interruption,  "that  rinding  myself  such  a 
recluse,  without  even  religion  enough  for  a  hermit,  I 
set  my  wits  to  work  to  right  matters,  and  decided  to 
find  a  wife." 

"Not  a  hard  matter,"  returned  the  officer,  sitting 
upright  now,  with  a  sigh  that  seemed  to  have  no 
limit  of  depth. 

"That  depends.  But  at  all  events,  I  shall  do  my 
part.  The  wine  acts  like  a  charm.  You  are  better 
already.  Have  another  glass." 


134 


CASTLE    FOAM. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

LEAVES  VERSUS  FLOWERS. 

IT  was  not  long  after  his  first  conversation  on  the 
prince's  marriage  necessities  that  Heinrich  Char- 
lovitz  took  occasion  to  introduce  the  subject  again.  . 

"  You  are  right,  father,"  the  prince  said  almost  in- 
stantly ;  "and  what  is  more,  I  want  you  to  look  about 
for  a  wife.  You  know,  by  repute  at  least,  thousands 
of  ladies  whom  I  might  perhaps  marry,  whom  I  know 
only  by  their  dresses  and  jewels." 

"Your  Highness  does  me  an  honor  inconceivable," 
replied  the  priest.  "  I  will  at  least  tell  all  I  know  or 
can  learn  of  any  you  may  name." 

"  No  ;  name  them  yourself,  father.  I  want,  of  course, 
a  handsome  face  and  a  well  body,  but,  most  of  all, 
purity  and  honesty.  I  care  not  a  straw  for  wealth  or 
title,  so,  of  course,  that  she  is  nobly  born.  I've  a 
heart,  I  suppose,  but  I  doubt  if  it  can  love.  I  marry 
because  I  must.  I  will  treat  my  wife  as  an  honorable 
husband  should.  Such  are  my  conditions.  Can  you 
fill  them?" 

"They  are  both  very  light  and  very  heavy,"  re- 
plied the  priest.  "  Let  me  ask  the  prince  this  favor  : 
to  give  a  banquet,  such  as  I  am  told  has  not  been  at 
Meerschaum  since  your  noble  father  became  so  justly 
disaffected,  through  Paul  the  First,  with  all  the  Rus- 


LEAVES    VERSUS    FLOWERS.  135 

sians.  I  will  select,  perhaps  one,  perhaps  many ; 
will  tell  the  prince  all  I  can  learn  of  them,  and  he 
shall  see  them,  and  judge  for  himself." 

"  Do  so,  good  Charlovitz.  The  ball  shall  be  given 
at  once." 

Thus  it  came  about  that  the  notices  of  the  ball 
were  sent,  and  the  day  at  last  arrived.  It  was 
the  very  last  of  harvest  time,  and  the  Countess  von 
Kramareff's  daughter  reclined  upon  a  luxurious  toilet 
lounge,  drawn  into  a  massive  gray-stone  octagon  win- 
dow, while  her  nurse  Elise  and  a  maid  arranged  a 
heavy  coil  of  pearls,  gathered  in  the  Persian  gulf  by 
red-skinned  divers,  through  the  thick  folds  of  sunlight 
hair,  till  the  effect  was  that  of  sunbeams  and  moon- 
beams tangled  about  the  lovely  face. 

"Elise,"  said  the  lady  softly,  "have  you  counted 
those  wonderful  cards  to-day  ?  " 

"Yes,  m'lady." 

*  I  thought  so.  Now  tell  me,  what  do  they  say  of 
the  place  where  I  am  going?" 

Elise  made  no  answer. 

"  Are  they  bad  ?  " 

"No,  m'lady." 

"They  are  good,  then." 

"No,  m'lady." 

"  That's  very  funny,  seems  to  me,  for  such  cards  as 
those  of  yours.  But  tell  me  yourself,  then,  what  you 
think  of  him  who  invites  us." 

The  old  nurse  was  silent. 

"  Don't  try  to  escape  me  in  that  way.  Elise,  do  you 
like  him?" 

"Yes,  m'lady." 

"Better  than  Major  Wolzonn?" 


136  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"No,  m'lady  ;  nor  near  so  well." 

"You  are  not  a  respecter  of  persons,  nurse.  I 
verily  believe  you  think  as  much  of  yonder  serfs  as 
of  the  Tzar.  Now  you  may  go.  And,  by  the  way, 
Elise,  I  expect  a  caller  this  afternoon.  Mother  is 
not  well,  and  unless  she  rests  we  cannot  go  to  Meer- 
schaum ;  therefore,  do  not  disturb  her.  It  is  only  a 
matter  of  business,  and  I  can  see  him  alone." 

Elise  turned  back  after  the  maid  had  left,  to  add, 
"There's  no  good  in  his  coming  here  so  much  of 
late." 

"Who's  coming?"  the  lady  asked,  starting  on  the 
divan. 

"Why,  him  that's  coming  this  afternoon,  —  the  priest 
Charlovitz." 

"Elise!"  exclaimed  her  mistress.  "How  many 
times  have  I  told  you  that  questions  are  for  me  to  ask 
of  you,  and  that  my  business  is  none  of  yours." 

Elise  made  no  answer.  She  was  satisfied  ;  she  had 
said  her  say ;  and  she  always  said  that  say,  though  it 
were  through  fire  and  water,  and  right  in  the  teeth  of 
her  lady's  command  to  be  silent ;  and  the  worst  of  it 
was  that  nine  times  out  of  ten  Elise  was  right. 

The  priest  came,  and  the  daughter  saw  him  alone, 
apologizing  for  her  mother  that  she  must  rest. 

"I  am  glad,"  said  Heinrich  Charlovitz,  "for  I  had 
hoped  to  see  you  alone  to-day." 

"  Have  you  bad  news?  "  she  answered  with  a  flush, 
then  a  dark  shadow  fell  over  her  cheek. 

The  priest  was  watching  her  closely,  and  asking 
himself  for  the  hundredth  time,  "Is  it  love,  as  she 
says,  or  am  la  party  to  the  vilest  ambition  ?  "  as  he 
answered,  "  I  will  tell  you,  and  you  shall  judge  for 


LEAVES    VERSUS    FLOWERS.  137 

yourself.  Everything  is  ready.  I  have  done  all 
you  could  have  asked,  and  the  result,  so  far  as  mere 
marrying,  is  as  sure  as  you  could  wish.  He  will 
dance  with  you  and  talk  with  you.  If  he  sees  nothing 
to  object  to,  simply  object,  he  will  to-morrow  or  soon 
ask  for  you." 

"Surely,  my  good  father  Charlovitz,  that  is  the  per- 
fection of  success."  The  lady  clasped  one  of  the 
priest's  hands  in  hers  and  would  have  kissed  it.  See- 
ing the  motion  he  drew  it  quickly  awray.  "  Not  for 
that,  lady.  It  is  not  the  functions  of  a  priest  I  am 
performing  now.  Nor  is  it,  as  you  say,  the  perfec- 
tion of  success.  My  lady,  I  have  warned  you  before ; 
let  me  once  again  —  He  does  not  love" 

"  Ah  !  good  father,  you  place  a  thousand  times  too 
much  importance  there.  I  love  him.  Love  will  find 
its  own.  He  will  love  me,  I  am  sure  of  it." 

"  It  is  my  earnest  hope,  and  shall  be  my  constant 
prayer,  if  you  accept  him,  that  Heaven  shall  bend 
his  heart  to  love.  He  loves  no  other,  I  am  sure  of 
that,  and  from  the  Tzar  to  the  rag-picker  there  is 
not  a  more  honorable  man  in  Russia." 

"  And  had  a  woman  not  better  have  such  an  one 
without  his  love,  than  the  passion  of  a  debauchee?" 

*  True,  lady,  true.  Yet  if  you  love  him  you  will 
look  for  love." 

"Do  not  your  good  books  say  that  love  begets 
love  ?  " 

The  priest  smiled.     "  It  may  be,  my  lady." 

"  It  shall,  good  father." 

"  Still  I  tremble.  The  prince  is  a  strange  fellow. 
He  says  he  was  not  made  to  love.  I  sometimes  think 
he  knows." 


138  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"And  so  much  the  better  for  me,  if  so  far  as 
he  has  gone  he  does  not  know  the  meaning  of  the 
word." 

The  priest  was  silent.  He  had  a  very  strong  sus- 
picion that  the  prince  had  loved.  Indeed  he  had 
formed  a  very  correct  judgment  as  to  what  that  love 
had  been,  though  not  a  word  had  been  spoken  that 
gave  him  any  authority,  and  he  had  meant  it  in  pos- 
itive truth,  and  would  repeat  a  thousand  times  that 
the  Prince  von  Meerschaum  was  honorable  to  the  last 
drop  of  his  blood ;  yet  had  he  dared  he  would  also 
have  added,  K  Lady  Kramareff,  do  not  marry  him. 
I  verily  believe  he  will  not  love."  As  it  was,  he  said 
more  than  his  judgment  concurred  in  when  he  replied 
to  her  last  remark,  "  My  lady,  I  have  said  all  I  can 
upon  one  side  and  the  other.  I  have  acted  as  your 
servant,  not  your  friend.  Your  eyes  are  open ;  act 
your  best  judgment,  and  rely  upon  me  to  be  yours  in 
any  trouble,  whatever  and  wherever  it  may  be." 

He  took  his  leave  and  sought  his  home  with  a 
heavy  heart,  quite  the  opposite  to  that  which  beat 
high  in  the  breast  of  the  countess's  daughter,  as  she 
found  herself  in  the  splendors  of  Castle  Foam, — 
such  splendors  as  she  had  never  even  dreamed  of,  — 
and  saying  to  herself,  "  I  shall  dance  with  the  Meer- 
schaum at  least  to-night ;  but  in  all  this  beauty,  is 
it  possible  that  I  may  please  him?"  Her  task  was 
easier  than  she  thought,  for  she  had  simply  not  to 
displease,  to  win. 

"  Heinrich  Charlovitz  was  right,"  said  the  prince 
to  himself  as  he  led  her  among  the  dancers.  "You 
have  grace  enough  for  a  queen.  You  are  fair  as  his 
idol  Marie  Antoinette  the  Beautiful."  And  he  won- 


LEAVES    VERSUS    FLOWERS.  139 

dered  if,  in  time,  such  an  image  might  not  obliterate 
the  simple  little  figure  of  the  forest-girl. 

My  lady's  happiness  was  for  the  moment  complete. 
But  there  came  other  dances,  when  she  leaned  on 
other  arms,  and  listened,  or  was  supposed  to  be  list- 
ening, to  other  voices ;  though  through  the  mysteri- 
ous mazes  she  was  jealously  watching  the  object  of 
her  thoughts,  as  he  bent  over  others,  speaking  as 
tenderly  as  to  her,  and  making  her  heart  sink  with 
fear  for  the  future.  A  little  later  Count  Olendorff 
offered  her  his  arm.  She  dared  not  refuse  the  grouty 
old  bachelor ;  yet  in  the  midst  of  the  life  and  death 
struggle  between  hope  and  fear  raging  within  her, 
how  could  she  dance?  She  was  only  a  girl,  she  was 
not  yet  a  woman  trained  in  that  mysterious  and  mar- 
velous fortitude  to  endure  everything  with  a  smile, 
suffer  everything  with  cheerfulness. 

The  old  count  was  wiping  his  bald  forehead. 

"Are  you  not  too  warm  to  dance?"  she  asked. 

"Conundrum,  hey?  I  give  it  up.  Ha,  ha!  But 
really,  don't  know  but  I  am.  Come  and  walk  in  the 
conservatory." 

Obeying  this  command  with  pleasure,  they  were 
soon  strolling  leisurely  through  an  immense  flower- 
garden,  where  but  few  of  the  guests  had  yet  pene- 
trated. 

"What  magnificent  flowers  the  Prince  von  Meer- 
schaum enjoys  !"  remarked  the  lady,  finding  it  impos- 
sible to  keep  her  thoughts  from  that  one  point. 

"Enjoys?  Well,  I  suppose  so,  —  one  may  say  en- 
joys. But  not  a  half  hour  ago  I  heard  him  say  he 
did  not  know  his  callas  were  in  bloom,  —  he  had 


140  CASTLE    FOAM. 

promised  to  paint  one  for  some  one ;  and  look,  they 
are  fading." 

"  He  paints  very  finely,"  said  the  lady. 

w  Yes,  I  suppose  so.  Pity  he  was  not  left  poor",  and 
he  might  have  done  something ;  but  now  he'll  fizzle 
in  the  pot.  That  is  Count  Olendorff's  opinion." 

My  lady  wondered  for  a  moment  what  he  meant  by 
being  left  poor,  as  though  the  prince  were  not  born  to 
an  estate  unequaled  in  Russia ;  but  many  said  that 
trouble  had  turned  the  old  man's  head,  and,  quite  in- 
clined to  believe  it,  she  dropped  the  subject,  and  an- 
swered : 

"  My  lord,  the  prince  is  very  far  from  extinguishing, 
even  as  an  artist.  Have  you  examined  his  pictures?" 

How  easy  it  is  to  champion  or  deprecate,  when  preju- 
dice lends  a  hand ! 

"I  suppose  so,"  replied  the  count;  M  and  I  suppose, 
too,  that  you  are  running  into  the  track  that  so  many 
young  women  have  followed  for  the  last  ten  years,  — 
going  mad  over  the  Prince  Reppoun.  But  there's  no 
earthly  use  in  it,  lady.  Look  at  me :  I'm  rugged, 
hearty,  and  unscathed  as  Troilus,  though  all  the 
women  in  the  land  did  once  run  mad  for  me.  And 
he's  just  like  me.  I've  known  him  from  a  boy.  He's 
cold  and  unfeeling  as  this  stuffed  bird."  He  laid  his 
hand  on  the  back  of  a  flamingo  standing  on  the  edge 
of  a  fountain. 

My  lady  stroked  the  feathers  of  the  bird.  They 
were  neither  hard  nor  cold.  Unfeeling  they  might 
be;  but  she  had  hardly  heard  the  bitter  charges, 
being  engaged  in  probing  a  mystery  across  the  foun- 
tain, where  two  gentlemen  stood  with  their  backs 
toward  her,  engaged  in  earnest  conversation.  The 


LEAVES    VERSUS    FLOWERS.  14! 

uniform  of  one  left  no  doubt  that  he  was  Major  Wol- 
zonn  ;  but  who  was  the  other?  Something  so  strangely 
familiar,  so  unaccountably  intimate  in  every  motion, 
and  a  faint  chill  crept  through  her  veins.  The  count 
saw  them,  too.  First  he  was  silent,  pulling  at  his 
watch-guard  till  he  broke  the  chain ;  then  suddenly 
catching  the  lady's  arm  as  though  she  were  a  spaniel, 
he  said  roughly  : 

"Let  us  walk  the  other  way." 

Again  she  obeyed ;  but  rather  enjoying  the  embar- 
rassment, for  retaliation  is  above  all  things  sweet,  she 
walked  very  slowly,  stopped  to  pick  a  flower,  while 
the  count  fairly  danced  in  his  nervous  haste ;  then, 
with  her  sweetest  smile,  turning  about  and  standing 
still,  she  asked : 

"Who  are  those  gentlemen  across  the  fountain,  my 
Lord  Count  Olendorff  ?  " 

"Come,  come  !  "  he  said  sharply.  "They  are  none 
that  you  know  or  ought  to  know.  Walk,  or  they  will 
see  us,  and  may  follow." 

"But  who  are  they,-  my  lord?  They  do  not  look 
like  monsters,"  she  said,  turning  slowly  to  follow,  and 
eying  him  in  a  way  that  might  have  suggested  a  men- 
tal comparison  had  the  count  been  sensitive. 

"Damn  it,  they  are  monsters!  —  villains!  One  is 
Major  Wolzonn,  stationed  at  the  citadel,  who  killed 
the  Count  von  Kramareff,  now  about  a  score  of  years 
ago;  and  the  other's  a  Dane  —  Von  Bremen  he  calls 
himself  hereabout.  He  did  a  lot  of  dirty  work  for  the 
traitors  against  Paul  the  First.  There  is  no  need  to 
walk  so  slow.  Come  faster ;  they  will  follow  us." 

In  his  excitement  Count  Olendorff  realized  no  more 
what  he  was  saying  than  who  it  was  to  whom  he 


1^.2  CASTLE    FOAM. 

talked.  What  though  the  lady's  cheeks  and  lips  were 
white  as  marble  ?  what  though  she  staggered  and 
caught  his  arm  to  keep  from  falling?  what  though 
the  impatient  jerk  he  gave  it  brought  back  to  life  a 
heart  that  was  standing  still,  while  all  was  dark 
about  the  countess's  daughter?  Count  Olendorff  knew 
nothing,  cared  nothing,  for  all  of  that. 

Coming  thus  to  consciousness,  she  asked  faintly, 
"Did  you  say,  sir,  that  it  was  Major  Constantine 
Wolzonn  who  killed  the  Count  von  Kramareff  ?  " 

"  I  said  so  —  yes.  It  was  in  one  of  their  secret  ren- 
dezvous ;  and  it  was  good  enough  for  the  dastardly 
traitor  to  die  in  just  that  fashion." 

No  one  blamed  Count  Olendorff  for  the  rough  way 
he  had  of  talking  of  those  Russians  who  had  plotted 
against  Paul  the  Reckless,  for  it  was  he  who  at  that 
time  had  worn  the  honors  of  Lord  Private  Counselor 
and  Royal  Adjutant  to  the  Tzar,  and  it  was  against 
him  even  more  bitterly  than  the  Tzar  that  the  darts 
had  been  pointed.  Then  every  one  hated  him ;  but 
now  his  world  was  upside  down,  and  they  pitied  him. 
So  he  went  on  with  his  grumbling  and  cursing, 
and  having  begun  upon  Count  von  Kramareff,  stuck 
closely  to  his  text  till  Lady  Kramareff,  startled  from 
the  horrible  reverie  into  which  she  had  been  thrown, 
turned  abruptly  upon  him,  eying  him  with  a  fierce 
glare,  and  saying,  with  all  the  dignity  of  that  house 
she  was  honoring : 

"  Sir,  I  am  the  daughter  of  that  Count  von  Krama- 
reff." 

"  The  devil  you  are  ! "  said  the  count,  looking  down 
at  her. 

Then  there  might  have  been  a  scene,  in  which  the 


,    LEAVES    VERSUS    FLOWERS.  143 

count  so  far  departed  from  his  wonted  way  as  to  apol- 
ogize for  his  rudeness ;  or  another,  in  which  he  clung 
to  his  wonted  way,  and  told  her  he  could  not  help  it 
if  she  were  ;  and  then,  when  she  rushed  away  from  him 
and  fainted,  and  revived,  people  would  have  said  to" 
comfort  her,  "You  must  not  mind  it,  dear;  it  is  only 
his  way,  that  is  all."  For  "  people  "  in  the  abstract 
seem  to  think  that  K  his  way  "  and  "  my  way  "  are  all- 
healing  balms  for  every  wound  that  can  be  inflicted. 

But  both  the  scenes  were  interrupted,  for  at  this 
opportune  moment  a  small,  handsome  man,  Albrecht 
von  Bremen  in  fact,  stepped  between  the  two,  with, 
"  Oh — er — yes,  my  dear  Lady  von  Kramareff,  and 
my — er — my  old  friend  Olendorff.  Beg  pardon, 
beg  pardon,  Major  Wolzonn,  Count  Olendorff;"  and 
placing  the  lady's  hand  upon  his  arm,  he  turned 
away,  asking,  "And — er — how  have  you  been  since 
we  parted  so  unhappily  ?  " 

Altogether  too  thoroughly  overcome  for  either  re- 
sistance or  reply,  the  countess's  daughter  silently  fol- 
lowed him. 

"A  little  abrupt,  yes,"  he  replied  for  her,  glancing 
from  the  corners  of  his  drooping  eyes  ;  "  but  you  see  I 
— er — well,  I  wanted  a  private  word  with  you,  and 
you  are — er — yes,  my  lady,  you  are  very  cruel  to 
me,  and  I  knew  you  would  not  give  it  for  asking. 
You — er — you  know  the  proverb  that  a  wise  man 
changes  his  mind  sometimes,  only  a  fool  never ;  and 
I — er — well,  lady,  to  be  brief,  as  I  must,  I  hoped 
you  had  changed  yours." 

"  Never  !  "  said  the  lady,  withdrawing  her  hand  with 
difficulty  from  his  arm. 

"Never?  "     His  lips  went  up  under  his  moustache. 


144  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"  Never  !  not  were  I  to  be  branded  the  veriest  fool ; 
and  I  pray  you  so  consider  it." 

"H'm.  But  you  must,  lady.  You  are  my  life,  my 
love,  my  all.  Love  too  much  refuted  turns  to  hate ; 
and  hate  is  dangerous  when  the  hater  knows  so  many 
of  the  hated's  secrets  as  I  know  of  yours.  Hunger 
knows  no  laws,  lady,  and  my  love  for  you  is  hunger, 
keen  and  ravenous." 

The  countess's  daughter  leaned  against  a  flower- 
stand  for  support.  She  trembled  as  she  felt  the  subtle 
power  of  that  strange,  magnetic  influence  which  he 
was  wielding,  and  winding  about  her.  It  was  not 
that  she  feared  him,  and  she  most  heartily  hated  him  ; 
yet  at  that  moment,  had  he  ordered  her  to  follow  him 
to  the  altar,  she  would  have  done  it ;  though  she  fol- 
lowed him  as  to  hell,  she  would  have  followed  still. 
She  knew  it ! 

"Monsieur  von  Bremen,"  she  gasped,  in  a  sort  of 
despairing  cry,  "  I  bid  you  GO  !  Leave  me  !  leave 
me,  I  command  you  !  " 

Alack  for  the  longing  Dane  !  He  did  not  see  as 
clearly  as  was  his  wont.  He  took  the  cry  as  a  signal 
for  desperate  strife  instead  of  a  drowning  man's  grasp 
for  a  straw,  and  crowning  Discretion  at  the  expense 
of  Valor, — he  always  did, — he  said,  with  a  very  low 
bow,  "  Ah  !  well,  my  lady,  —  so,  so.  What  must  be 
must  be,  though,  and  something  tells  me  you  must  be 
my  wife." 

Thereupon  he  left  her,  and  she  stood  for  some  min- 
utes, almost  unconsciously,  by  the  flower-stand,  seeing 
nothing,  yet  gazing  earnestly  into  the  pure  depths  of 
a  white  lily,  when  suddenly  a  deep  voice  close  beside 


LEAVES    VERSUS    FLOWERS.  145 

her  roused  her  with  the  words,  "  '  Handsome  as  Apol- 
lo, as  Apollyon  treacherous.' " 

"  Prince  von  Meerschaum  !  "  she  exclaimed,  while 
the  color  mounted  to  her  cheeks  again,  and  she  won- 
dered whether  she  were  more  angry  or  happy  to  see 
him  there. 

"  That  is  a  pretty  flower,"  he  added,  touching  an 
exquisite  exotic  hanging  from  her  brooch,  without 
giving  her  a  moment  to  reply ;  "  I  have  tried  in  vain 
to  find  the  plant." 

"  We  brought  a  slip  from  Italy  several  years  ago, 
but  the  blossom  has  no  fragrance  in  our  conserva- 
tory." 

She  broke  the  stem  and  gave  it  to  him.  He 
bowed,  smiled,  and  was  gone,  wondering,  as  he 
went,  why  such  a  beauty  might  not  cover  up  entirely 
any  attraction  to  be  found  in  a  plain,  poor  little  lin- 
den leaf. 

10 


146  CASTLE    FOAM. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

THE  MISSING  LINK. 

"  T  T  THAT  !  Zounds  !  my  boy,  how  wet  you  are  ! 
VV  Where  have  you  been?" 

"  In  the  court-door,  master." 

"  Hey  ?  "  snarled  the  grouty  master.  "  And  is  the  air 
so  full  of  snow  that  you  must  be  covered  from  head  to 
foot  for  opening  the  door  ?  " 

This  was  a  downright  lie.  The  boy  was  not  cov- 
ered from  head  to  foot,  but  had  brushed  himself  with 
commendable  neatness,  only  forgetting  his  shoulders, 
as  all  boys  will. 

"  Please,  master,  a  gentleman  kept  me  waiting 
there  so  long  until  he  found  his  card  —  " 

"  His  what  ?  A  card?  Give  it  me  quickly  !  Why 
did  you  not  wait  till  morning,  and  then  send  me  to 
your  room  for  it  ?  " 

"  Because  the  gentleman  is  waiting,  master,  to 
know  if  you  are  in." 

"  Well,  I'm  not  in,  do  you  hear?  "  he  almost  shout- 
ed, standing  with  his  back  upon  a  broad  window,  and 
holding  the  card  at  arm's  length  to  accommodate  his 
veteran  eyes.  "  Go  down  and  tell  him  so,  and  then 
brush  off  your  coat." 

The  boy  turned  to  obey,  but  was  met  in  turning  by 
the  very  man  himself,  who  gave  him  a  pat  on  the 


THE    MISSING    LINK.  147 

shoulder,  and  said  in  a  soft,  gentle  voice,  "The  last 
you  may  do,  and  welcome  if  you  need  it ;  but  the 
first  —  that  would  be  a  lie,  a  wicked  lie,  my  boy. 
Never  tell  lies,  never  tell  lies ;  but  tell  the  truth 
and  shame  the  devil,  even  if  he  be  your  master." 

Much  bewildered,  the  boy  went  out,  while,  calm 
as  a  summer  sea,  the  stranger  bowed  very  low  to  the 
old  man,  and  said,  "If  you  are  not  in,  my  lord,  you 
should  not — er — not  roar  so  loud.  Your  trumpet 
belies  your  words.  It  is  a  powerful  trumpet,  yes." 

"I  suppose  so,"  was  all  the  old  man  vouchsafed. 

Seating  himself  before  the  fire,  and  thrusting  one 
foot  toward  the  flame,  the  new-comer  inquired,  "And 
why  were  you  not  in,  my  lord?" 

The  old  man  made  an  evident  effort,  but  answered 
cheerily  enough  at  last.  "The  fact  is,  I'm  old  and 
worn  out,  and  could  not  bring  myself  to  wish  to  see 
any  one." 

"  H'm,"  observed  the  .  other,  wagging  his  foot 
before  the  fire. 

"I  say!"  exclaimed  the  old  man,  pulling  vigorous- 
ly upon  a  bell-rope,  as  if  to  prove  that  he  had  lied 
and  was  not  old  and  worn  out,  "you'll  have  some 
wine  ?  " 

Somewhat  aroused  by  the  anticipation,  the  other 
pushed  his  chair  back  to  the  table  and  replied,  "  I 
think  I  will,"  and  in  a  moment  asked,  "  Is  there  no 
news,  my  lord?" 

"News?  No.  In  fact,  I'm  clean  disgusted  with 
the  whole  affair." 

"Disgusted!  That's  a  long  word  for  you.  You 
must  be  feeling  better  than  you  did,  and  I  might  as 
well  go  back  with  mine." 


148  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"  What  is  it,  hey?     You  have  some  news?  " 

"Oh — er — yes.  I  thought  you  were — er — dis — er — 
dis — dis — " 

"Disgusted?" 

"  'Ousted,  yes,  'gusted ;  disgusted ;  yes,  I  thought 
you  were  disgusted." 

"And  who  would  not  be,  as  things  have  gone? 
Come,  if  you've  news,  let's  have  it." 

Leaning  over  the  table,  he  whispered  something  in 
the  old  man's  ear  that  caused  him  to  start  back  so 
suddenly  that  the  decanters  rattled  on  the  table. 

After  a  moment's  pause  he  emptied  his  glass,  took 
his  hat,  and  without  a  word  of  farewell  started  for  the 
door.  This  course  was  cut  short  by  the  old  man,  who 
grasped  him  fiercely  by  the  arm. 

"H'm,  well,  my  lord,  what  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"This,  sir  !  "  The  old  man  jerked  himself  from  his 
chair  by  the  visitor's  coat-sleeve,  who  looked  depre- 
catingly  at  the  spot  where  he  had  let  go.  "I  have 
a  piece  of  news  after  all,  and  it  quite  overthrows  the 
benefit  of  yours." 

The  old  man  was  silent,  till,  lowering  from  under 
his  eyebrows,  the  other  observed,  "  Waiting  for  you  to 
proceed,  my  lord, — waiting  for  you  to  proceed." 

"Hey?  Well,  then,  I  will.  We  are  neither  of  us 
likely  to  reap  much  from  the  estates  of  Meerschaum  !" 

"Tush,  tush  I  Take  a  trumpet,  and  roar  it  from 
the  window." 

"What  do  you  say?  No,  I  will  not  whisper  it. 
We  are  vanquished,  man.  That  is  Count  Olendorff  's 
opinion." 

"  I  should  like  to  know  by  whom  ? "  said  the  vis- 
itor carelessly. 


THE    MISSING    LINK.  149 

"  Know  then  !  The  daughter  of  the  Countess  von 
Kramareff  is  even  now  betrothed  to  the  Prince  Rep- 
poun." 

The  visitor  hung  his  hands  by  his  thumbs  in  the 
pockets  of  his  pantaloons,  and  his  head  well  upon  one 
side,  while  his  eyes  half  closed  themselves.  A  mo- 
ment of  silence  elapsed.  Then  calmly  enough  he 
replied,  "How  can  that  matter,  if  we  keep  the  girl 
away  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so  ;  at  least,  that  you  can  carry  your 
point,  whether  he  be  husband  of  a  Kramareff  or  a 
bachelor ;  but,  don't  you  see,  what  to  me  is  that  gold 
and  that  title  without  a  wife  ?  Ever  since  the  ball  at 
Meerschaum  I've  had  the  countess's  daughter  laid 
away  till  such  a  time  as  I  might  offer  her  just  that 
place  to  marry  me.  She  did  not  promise  me  at  the 
ball,  but  I  was  coming  at  it  when  you  came  and  took 
her  off;  and  I  thought,  to  make  sure  of  it,  I'd  just 
go  round  and  talk  with  the  old  countess  yesterday ; 
and  then  she  told  me  ;  w  and  the  old  man,  sobbing  like 
a  child,  dropped  into  his  arm-chair,  while  two  great 
tears  followed  the  hard  wrinkles  on  his  face  down 
into  his  moustache.  Evidently  he  could  not  endure 
in  his  second  childhood  what  he  had  "passed  through 
unscathed"  in  his  first.  "Help  me  there,  too,  Alb- 
recht,"  he  sobbed,  "  and  a  half  of  the  income  from 
both  estates  shall  be  yours  instead  of  a  third  of  the 
one.  Do  you  see,  hey  ?  " 

The  Dane  did  not  say  whether  he  saw  or  not.  In 
fact,  he  was  gone  when  the  old  tear-dewed  eyes  were 
opened. 

Left  alone,  Count  Olendorff  ran  his  fingers  through 


l"5O  CASTLE    FOAM. 

the  straggling  strands  of  silver  that  still  clung  about 
the  outskirts  of  his  crown,  scrupulously  avoiding  the 
summit,  and  paced  the  room  like  a  young  man  of 
thirty,  instead  of  the  old  man  that  he  was,  with  one- 
and-seventy  winters  weighting  his  life  with  snow. 

Pausing  before  the  window,  he  flung  open  the  sash 
and  thrust  his  head  out  into  the  fierce,  driving  storm. 
With  a  sigh  of  relief  he  saw  the  sleigh  pass  from  the 
court,  bearing  his  late  visitor ;  for  notwithstanding 
the  great  value  which  he  had  plainly  placed  upon  the 
services  of  Albrecht  von  Bremen,  he  hated  and  feared 
him. 

"Why  did  that  man  ever  come  to  me?  "  he  asked 
the  snowflakes.  "  Why  did  he  tell  me  I  was  the  next 
in  kin  to  the  Prince  von  Meerschaum,  when  I  never 
knew  that  a  drop  of  the  same  blood  ran  in  our  veins  ? 
Why  did  he  prove  to  me  the  possibility  of  legally 
thrusting  him  out  and  taking  the  place  myself?  Why 
did  he  disturb  the  quiet  of  my  old  age  with  such  a 
snarl  and  tangle,  and  drag  me  into  mischief  that 
would  damn  any  soul  to  hell  to  carry  through  the 
point  ?  " 

Then  he  went  back  into  the  room,  and  still  think- 
ing of  the  mischief  and  the  damning,  said  to  soothe 
himself:  "But  what  of  that?  My  soul  was  black- 
ened deep  with  crime  many  a  year  ago,  unless  the 
absolutions  I  receive  before  each  Easter  day  have 
kept  it  white." 

Here  was  consolation,  and,  drinking  another  glass 
of  wine,  he  lay  down  on  a  low  couch  to  smoke  his 
pipe,  and  wonder  how  soon  it  would  all  come  about 
as  he  and  the  Dane  had  planned. 


THE  'MISSING    LINK.  151 

He  would  not  have  lain  and  wondered  so  quietly 
had  he  known  how  thoroughly  he  had  disturbed  his 
potent  servant  by  his  bit  of  information,  and  that  that 
individual  was  just  then  struggling  in  deeper  drifts 
than  the  horses  that  drew  his  sleigh  In  fact,  Albrecht 
von  Bremen  was  thoroughly  upset.  Not,  as  he  had 
so  calmly  said,  that  the  marriage  of  the  prince  would 
overthrow  the  plans  he  had  been  half  his  life  in  lay- 
ing, but  because  beside  those  plans  he  had  a  still 
more  interesting  network  laid  to  entangle  the  coun- 
tess's daughter,  and  it  maddened  him  to  see  her  slip- 
ping from  his  fingers. 

"  I  have  sworn  I  would  marry  her,  and ,  by  the  gods, 
I  will!  "  he  said,  stamping  his  foot  upon  the  floor  of  the 
sleigh.  But  how  to  do  it,  that  was  the  question  that 
upset  him.  His  plans  for  her  were  very  far  from 
completed.  There  was  no  hope  that  he  could  carry 
them  out  in  time.  Possibly  they  would  not  have  suc- 
ceeded if  he  had.  Of  those  for  the  prince  he  felt 
more  sure,  and  they  were  nearer  perfect.  They  would 
easily  do  the  work  for  both,  and  upon  them  he  turned 
all  his  thoughts,  wholly  ignoring  Count  OlendorfF's 
longing  for  a  wife,  though  it  was  through  Count  Olen- 
dorfF's position  that  he  had  gained  every  introduction 
in  St.  Petersburg's  best  society. 

He  was  in  more  of  a  snarl  and  a  tangle  than  the  old 
count  by  far.  "Oh!"  he  groaned,  "if  I  could  but 
find  that  missing  link  that  would  prove  Reppoun  a 
bastard.  What  a  fire  such  a  spark  would  light  in  this 
Russian  capital!  Just  one  ! — one  link  in  a  long  chain 
of  evidence!  The  prince  his  father,  an  actress  his 
mother !  Adopted  in  infancy  by  the  Princess  von 


152  CASTLE    FOAM. 

Meerschaum  to  satisfy  her  lord,  for  whom,  in  ten 
years  of  marriage,  she  had  not  borne  a  child,  and  by 
her  sworn  to  as  her  own.  Only  his  mother  to  find  ! 
Only  an  actress!  Oh,  where  can  I  go?  What  can 
I  do  to  find  the  missing  link  ?  " 


CASTLE    FOAM. 


PART    II. 

'Would'st  thou,'  so  the  helmsman  answered, 

'  Learn  the  secret  of  the  sea  ? 

Only  those  who  brave  its  dangers 

Comprehend  its  mystery.'  " 

'  For  gentleness,  and  love,  and  trust, 
Prevail  o'er  angry  wave  and  gust; 
And  in  the  wreck  of  noble  lives 
Something  immortal  still  survives." 


INTRODUCTORY.  I 55 


CHAPTER    I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

TIME  has  been  growing  old.  Ten  years  have 
worn  away  —  some  longer,  some  shorter  than 
the  average  length  of  years  ;  merry  and  sad  ones, 
coming  and  going  from  eternity  to  eternity,  laden 
with  the  trials,  cares,  and  pleasures  of  a  wide,  wide 
world.  There  have  been  changes  in  the  ten  years, 
as  in  every  span  forming  a  link  in  a  lifetime ;  but  not 
so  many  changes  as  in  some  shorter  spans.  All  are 
alive  whom  we  met  before.  All  are  ten  years  older; 
some  for  better,  some  for  worse.  Constantine  Wol- 
zonn,  for  instance,  is  certainly  sadder,  and  thinks 
himself  wiser  ;  but  whether  he  is  benefited  thereby  he 
himself  does  not  know,  much  less  his  neighbor.  The 
Emperor  Alexander  died  in  the  south  of  Russia,  with 
those  memorable  words  upon  his  lips,  "  How  beauti- 
ful is  the  day  !"  His  next  brother,  Constantine,  being 
wholly  unequal  to  hold  the  reins  of  government,  gave 
them  into  the  hands  of  the  third  brother,  Nicholas, 
who  took  them  under  a  threatening  sky,  with  the  still 
more  memorable  words,  rt  I  shall  soon  be  an  emperor 
or  a  corpse.  If  I  am  emperor  only  for  an  hour  I  will 
show  the  world  that  I  am  worthy  of  the  name."  That 
was  in  the  midwinter  of  1825. 

The  days  had  grown  darker  and  darker  about  Major 


156  CASTLE    FOAM. 

Wolzonn.  He  was  submerged  in  despair  consequent 
upon  the  actual  worthlessness  and  wickedness  of  his 
life.  It  chanced  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  Nich- 
olas, and  heard  these  words.  They  inspired  him  with 
a  strange,  fanatic  zeal.  Suddenly  he  sprang  into  that 
position  where  man  becomes  most  useful  in  the  world. 
A  man  to  whom  self  was  unknown,  life  a  forgotten 
thing;  energy,  courage,  indomitable  will,  as  slaves 
of  duty  the  life-blood  and  the  brain.  He  laid  his 
sword  at  the  feet  of  Nicholas.  He  touched  his  fore- 
head three  times  to  the  ground,  and  said,  "  Master, 
accept  my  life."  Nicholas  knew  well  the  value  of 
such  a  sacrifice.  He  accepted  the  offering  and  found 
a  man  madly  devoted  through  the  struggles  that  en- 
sued, possibly  even  longing  for  some  cold,  shining 
blade  that  should  honorably  sever  the  silver  cord  that 
had  become  so  tarnished.  Finally  established  securely 
as  Tzar  of  all  the  Russias,  the  emperor  did  not  for- 
get the  man  who  had  been  valiant  captain  of  his  body- 
guard, and  now,  in  1832,  Constantine  Wolzonn  was 
a  general.  But  with  quiet  and  rest,  the  new  spirit  of 
self-abnegation  had  worn  away,  and  the  old  restless- 
ness came  back :  the  old  torments  of  the  murderer, 
the  old  tortures  of  the  lover. 

The  countess's  daughter  had  honored  the  house  of 
Kramareff  to  the  full  satisfaction  of  her  mother,  and 
had  been  for  ten  years  the  Princess  von  Meerschaum, 
for  Albrecht  von  Bremen,  though  still  in  the  field,  an 
ardent  laborer  in  behalf  of  his  tottering  patron  Count 
Olendorff,  was  yet  baffled  in  his  search  for  that  "  miss- 
ing link."  Half  a  century  and  two  years  more  had 
slipped  away  from  him,  and  still  the  great  aim  of  his 
noble  life  was  to  depose  the  Prince  Reppoun  and 


INTRODUCTORY.  157 

marry  the  princess,  whom  he  had  not  seen,  from 
principle  and  prudence,  since  she  had  driven  him 
from  her  in  the  conservatory  at  Meerschaum. 

The  affairs .  at  Castle  Foam  we  must  consider  at 
greater  length.  Suffice  it  just  now  that  for  nine  years 
a  little  prince  has  been  growing  tall  and  strong  and 
large  upon  the  castle  lawn.  A  little  "Victor"  of 
course,  and  as  like  his  father  in  body,  head,  and  heart 
as  a  little  drop  of  water  is  like  a  larger  one. 


158  CASTLE    FOAM. 


CHAPTER   II. 

AN   ECHO    FROM   DEEP    IN   A   MIRE. 

THE  summer  was  wearing  out.  It  was  ten  years 
and  six  months,  in  fact,  from  the  conversation 
of  Count  OlendorfF  and  Albrecht  von  Bremen,  when 
the  Prince  Reppoun,  reclining  in  a  summer-house  at 
Meerschaum,  noted  a  little  shadow  in  the  door,  and 
heard  a  little  voice  say,  "  Papa  ! " 

"Well,  Vick,  what  is  it?"  he  asked,  without  look- 
ing from  his  book. 

"I'm  going  to  learn  to  skate  when  winter  comes 
again ;  Leo  says  he'll  teach  me."  He  paused  there 
for  an  evident  lack  of  attention  on  the  part  of  his 
father.  "And  too,  papa — " 

"And  what  too,  my  boy?"  still  without  leaving  the 
page. 

"The  lake  would  be  just  the  place  to  learn  on,  only 
it's  so  shallow  that  in  winter  the  mud  comes  through, 
you  know, — wouldn't  it,  papa?" 

"  Perhaps." 

"Well,  papa,  Gabriel's  father  says  he  could  get 
the  water  out  and  dig  it  as  deep  as  we  wanted,  and 
then  let  the  water  all  in  again.  Wouldn't  that  be  all 
right?" 

He  kicked  the  toes  of  his  little  boots  into  the  dirt 
behind  him,  wheeled  back  and  forth  upon  one  heel, 


,  AN    ECHO    FROM    DEEP    IN    A    MIRE.  159 

and  tried  to  pull  the  buttons  from  his  coat,  while  he 
waited  for  an  answer. 

"  Do  you  say  it,  papa?  "  he  asked  impatiently.  Who 
had  a  better  right  to  be  impatient? 

"Yes,  yes,  you  scamp.  Don't  bother  me,  and  you 
may  do  as  you  please  forever." 

"  Hi,  hi !  I  don't  believe  I'd  better  bother  him  much, 
if  that's  the  way,"  Victor  said,  as  he  ran  away  with 
his  playfellow  Gabriel. 

"No  indeed,"  said  Gabriel. 

And  three  days  afterward,  as  the  prince  sat  smoking 
in  the  Oriental  vestibule,  Victor  entered,  followed  close 
by  Gabriel,  without  even  waiting  for  a  boy's  ceremony. 

"It's  almost  done,  papa,"  he  announced,  panting  for 
breath. 

"And  what  is  it  you  are  doing  that  is  almost  done?  " 
asked  his  father,  patting  his  ruddy  cheek. 

"Why,  papa,  didn't  you  mean  they  should?  You 
said  it,  any  way." 

"  Said  what,  my  boy  ?  " 

"Why,  dig  the  park-lake  deeper,  so  I  can  learn  to 
skate,  you  know." 

An  incident  of  long  ago  flashed  over  the  father's 
mind,  causing  him  to  spring  rather  more  hastily  than 
he  was  wont  from  his  reclining  position.  His  boy 
shrank  back  toward  Gabriel.  The  worst  result,  how- 
ever, was  a  pat  on  the  cheek,  and  the  smiling  an- 
nouncement that  his  father  must  go  and  look  into  the 
matter. 

The  boy's  smiles  came  again  instantly,  as  though 
his  little  face  were  only  a  mirror  of  his  father's,  and 
holding  something  in  his  muddy  little  hand,  he  said : 


l6o  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"And  see,  papa,  see  what  we  found  buried  deep  in 
the  mire." 

Here  Victor's  prattle  was  finally  checked.  His  father 
seized  the  dirty  foundling,  exclaiming,  "That  is  a  box 
of  mine,  Victor,  that  I  lost  many  years  ago.  Thank 
you  for  finding  it.  Now  run  away."  And  without 
waiting  to  see  him  off,  he  left  the  room. 

"I  think  that  js  pretty  funny,  don't  you,  Gabriel?" 
pondered  Victor,  and,  as  ever,  Gabriel  answered  : 

"Yes  indeed  !  But  I  wish  you'd  asked  him  how  it 
came  open,  before  he  went  away." 

"But  he*went  so  quick,"  said  Victor. 

"Yes  indeed  !"  said  Gabriel. 

The  prince  had  gone  directly  to  his  private  library. 
It  was  a  room  furnished  by  himself  for  his  own  pur- 
poses. Rows  of  shelves,  crowned  with  heavy  wood- 
carving,  covered  with  glass  screens,  supported  one  of 
the  largest  libraries  in  Russia.  This,  however,  must 
not  assume  undue  proportions,  for  it  must  be  remem- 
bered that  only  twenty-nine  years  before  there  was 
not  a  bookstore  in  the  entire  empire,  and  not  a  book, 
made  or  written  outside  of  Russia,  allowed  to  be 
owned  under  the  scepter  of  Paul.  Copies,  from  Flor- 
ence, of  the  colossal  heads  of  Socrates  and  Plato  stood 
one  on  either  side  the  door.  Under  a  high  dome  in 
the  center  of  the  room  stood  one  of  Karnak's  small- 
est obelisks,  a  miniature  of  the  sphinx  of  Ghizeh 
and  temple  of  Anaraches  on  either  side.  One  deep, 
heavily  curtained  window,  beside  the  dome,  lighted 
the  apartment.  Beside  the  pillars  of  the  window  stood 
the  Hindoo  god  of  wisdom,  Vishnu,  six  feet  high,  in 
bronze,  and  the  Greek  Minerva  in  marble. 

Bolting  the  door,  the  prince  threw  himself  upon 


AN    ECHO    FROM    DEEP    IN    A    MIRE.  l6l 

the  soft  cushions  that  circled  the  window-seat  behind 
the  curtains,  and  there  gave  freedom  to  a  deep,  long 
smothered  sigh  that  had  lain  for  ten  weary  years  im- 
prisoned by  the  word  of  his  strong  will.  It  was  a 
sigh  of  no  one  and  definable  meaning,  but  it  radically 
changed  in  its  breathing  the  already  turbid  current  of 
his  life.  It  was  an  echo  from  deep  in  the  mire,  —  an 
echo  of  that  splash!  as  the  box  had  struck  the  water, 
when  it  sank,  but  not  to  oblivion,  not  beyond  resur- 
rection. This  sudden  summons  had  raised  the  almost 
dead,  and  taking  the  prince  at  a  moment  when  his 
heart  was  not  steeled  against  temptation,  had  won  a* 
victory  that  Kathi  Chichkini  herself  might  have  lost. 
As  he  sat  in  that  window-seat,  holding  the  precious 
box,  his  summer  in  Poland  swept  like  Canaan  before 
him,  —  "a  fair  and  happy  land."  He  only  remem- 
bered he  had  loved, — dearly,  madly  loved,  —  "not 
wisely,  but  too  well ;  "  and  distance  lent  enchantment 
to  the  view.  He  remembered  how  for  ten  years  he 
had  fought  with  himself  to  love  another,  and  failed. 
Why?  Was  it  because  he  loved  Kathi  Chichkini? 
He  thought  so.  But  Constantine  Wolzonn  was  either 
more  of  a  philosopher,  or  knew  him  better  than  the 
prince  knew  himself;  for  when  he  first  heard  of  the 
betrothal  he  had  hurried  in  honest  agony  to  his 
cousin,  and  said  to  her :  "My  lady,  he  is  too  faultless, 
he  is  too  perfect,  to  abide  by  imperfection,  be  it  never 
so  hidden.  I  know  him  better  than  you,  and  warn 
you  he  seeks  in  life  an  ideal  of  his  own  construction. 
He  will  never  be  satisfied  with  anything  a  hair's 
breadth  short  of  that  perfection.  Pygmalion  was  not 
so  fastidious ;  for  could  he  carve  for  himself  intrinsic 
loveliness,  and  a  god  answer  his  prayer  for  incarna- 
ii 


1 62  CASTLE    FOAM. 

tion,  till  the  flesh  was  the  wax  of  Hymettus  and  the 
blood  immortal  ichor,  even  then  he  would  be  dissatis- 
fied, because,  forsooth,  the  fever  and  the  weakness 
of  living  were  there.  You  know  that  there  is  no  one 
perfect  here,  and  if  he  should  find  himself  mistaken 
in  this  step,  your  river  of  life  would  be  a  Bhar  Shei- 
tan  to  you." 

The  countess's  daughter  was  at  that  moment  blind 
to  everything  but  the  glory  and  the  determination 
that  she  would  "  force  him  to  love  her,"  and  gave  the 
most  natural  yet  most  unexpected  of  all  replies  when 
she  said,  "  Are  you  not  prejudiced  a  little  in  your  own 
behalf?" 

'  Pride  had  kept  her  cousin  silent  since  that  day, 
though  in  truth,  and  he  knew  it,  he  had  hit  very  near 
the  mark.  The  prince  had  seen  in  Kathi  Chichkini 
an  approach  to  perfection  that  he  had  not  found  in 
the  world  before.,  perhaps  because  he  had  not  looked 
for  it,  and  it  suddenly  stirred  to  the  depth  of  his  soul 
all  his  adoration  for  the  beautiful.  One  could  not  say 
that  he  did  not  love  her,  or  that  he  would  not  have 
loved  her  forever  and  ever  had  she  become  his  wife, 
but  I  do  believe  that  what  he  loved  was  not  Kathi 
Chichkini,  —  a  blunder  that  brings  more  sorrow  into 
this  world  of  love,  or  hate,  than  all  the  others  piled 
upon  each  other. 

What  of  it?  It  was  as  real  to  him  as  love  is  ever 
real,  and  this  reaction  after  a  long  struggle  found 
him  many  times  more  passionate  than  before.  In- 
sanely passionate  !  for  man  may  worship  beauty  till 
so  far  beyond  himself  that  he  is  no  more  himself  than 
the  pilgrim  to  Chawvereipak  who  falls  before  the 
wheels  of  the  car  of  Juggernaut. 


AN    ECHO    FROM    DEEP    IN    A    MIRE.  163 

With  indescribable  reverence  he  laid  the  little  box 
before  him,  bitterly  crying,  "Why  hast  thou  come  to 
the  light  again,  relic  of  my  Herculaneum?  " 

Exposure  had  ruined  the  side  of  the  box,  but  the 
stone  bound  over  the  top  had  protected  the  cover. 
The  Divine  Head  by  Guido  was  as  perfect  as  ever,  and 
the  magnificent  diamond,  brighter  for  its  long  burial, 
flashed  angrily,  as  Solomon's  genii  upon  the  fisher- 
man who  released  him. 

"  I  wonder  if  the  water  is  inside  ?  "  he  muttered,  and 
pressed  his  finger  on  the  jewel,  but  drew  it  back  with 
a  shudder,  and,  shaking  his  head  solemnly,  placed  it 
in  the  window-seat,  laying  beside  it  a  medallion  set 
in  precious  stones.  No  one  saw  the  prince  that  day 
or  night,  and  the  valet  who  brought  his  dinner  and  tea 
to  the  door  took  both  down  again  untasted. 

When  he  appeared  for  his  morning  drive  he  looked 
worn  and  weary.  Servants  shrank  away  from  him, 
wistful  of  that  peculiar  frown  that  the  oldest  among 
them  remembered  in  his  father  as  an  omen  of  no 
good,  and,  shaking  their  heads,  asked  the  old  butler 
if  he  thought  there  was  aught  amiss  between  the  lord 
and  his  lady.  And  the  wise  steward,  with  his  thumb 
beside  his  nose,  redder  somewhat  for  ten  years  of 
smelling  of  his  master's  wine,  answered,  as  many 
times  in  years  gone  by,  "Wait!  that  is  no  affair  of 
yours." 

Even  Victor  and  Gabriel  cast  significant  glances  at 
each  other,  and  stole  away  without  asking,  as  they 
had  planned  together,  how  it  was  the  little  box  came 
open,  and  what  it  really  was  that  had  lain  buried  in 
the  lake  so  long. 

"  I  don't  believe  he's  very  glad  to  find  it,  after  all," 


164  CASTLE    FOAM. 

said  Victor.  "He's  awfully  mad  about  something.  I 
hope  it's  not  about  us  and  the  lake  —  don't  you, 
Gabriel?" 

And,  as  ever,  "Yes,  indeed!"  said  Gabriel. 

Twilight,  once  again  winding  its  somber  shroud 
around  the  gray-white  walls  of  Castle  Foam,  found 
its  master  bending  before  a  victorious  idol.  Pale  and 
conquered,  he  was  kneeling  there,  clasping  in  his 
hands  a  small  golden  crucifix,  pressing  it  to  his  fore- 
head and  his  lips,  beseeching  forgiveness  for  words 
yet  unspoken,  for  deeds  yet  undone. 

He  shuddered,  but  struggled  no  longer,  for  he  felt 
himself  borne  on  by  a  power  beyond  the  resistance  of 
his  will.  As  a  leaf  glides  helplessly  down  a  swift- 
flowing  stream,  so  recklessly  he  gave  himself  up  to 
the  flood  that  had  overtaken  him,  and  floated  down. 

The  cold,  clear,  heartless  moonlight  fell  mockingly 
into  the  window-seat,  as,  putting  down  the  crucifix, 
slowly  he  laid  a  trembling  hand  on  the  sacred  little 
box. 

"It  is  cold — cold!"  he  whispered,  as  he  drew  it 
from  its  rest.  "  If-  it  has  mouldered  and  gone,  this 
shall  be  the  end  of  it ;  I  leave  with  its  ashes  all  it 
represents.  But  if  it  be  perfect.  I  am  resolved.  May 
God  judge  me  !  " 

His  lips  were  dry.  His  tongue  was  parched  as  he 
touched  the  spring.  The  hinges  were  rusty  and  did 
not  move.  Slowly  he  forced  it,  till,  roused  from  its 
lethargy,  the  spring  laid  the  cover  open  in  his  hand. 
He  sprang  back,  unable  to  look  at  the  long-hidden 
treasure,  sealing  his  vow  thereby.  Then,  again 
bending  forward  into  the  moonlight,  he  dared  the 
venture.  With  fingers  as  weak  as  a  child's,  he  drew 


AN    ECHO    FROM    DEEP    IN    A    MIRE.  165 

it  from  its  long  resting-place,  as  dry  as  though  it 
had  lain  those  years  on  the  sand  shrine  at  Mecca. 
Folded  in  the  paper  lay  two  halves  —  skeleton  halves 

—  of  what  once  had  been  a  linden  leaf.     He  raised 
them  to  his  lips  to   kiss  them,  but  as  they  felt  his 
breath  they  floated  from  the  paper,  light  as  air.    Was 
it  an  omen?     He  sprang  to  catch  them.     One  half 
fell   upon  the  casement,  the  other  slipped  from  his 
ringers  and  with  a  whirl  swept  through  the  window, 
freed  from  the  narrow  confines  of  its  tomb,  to  dance 
a  wild  jubilee  on  the  autumn  wind. 

The  part  which  remained  the  prince  laid  tenderly 
between  two  ivory  covers,  beside  the  medallion  and 
the  crucifix.  Softly  the  moonlight  left  the  window, 
and  only  the  silvern  ripple  of  the  leaves  reflected  its 
light  from  the  western  horizon.  Then  one  by  one 
even  the  brightest  stars  sank  into  the  gray  before  the 
dawning. 

The  sun  was  shining  full  and  warm  when  the  prince 
sprang  suddenly  to  his  feet  and  through  the  curtains, 
which  fell  together  behind  him. 

"  How  came  I  to  fall  asleep  in  such  a  place  ? 
What  in  the  world  was  I  doing?  "  he  asked  himself, 
slowly  walking  the  length  of  the  room.  "I  dreamed 

—  ah  !  I  remember.     I  dreamed  of —  the  little  girl  in 
Poland.     Oh,   Kathi  !    Kathi !  will  you  never  cease 
tormenting  me?    Shall  my  crime,  like  Sindbad's  bur- 
den, always  cling  to  me?  " 

Pressing  his  hand  upon  his  forehead,  he  exclaimed 
again,  "  How  real !  and  why  did  I  sleep,  and  when? 
I  am  confused.  Is  it  morning,  noon,  or  night?" 
Slowly  he  approached  the  window  and  threw  the 
damask  folds  aside. 


1 66  CASTLE    FOAM. 

On  the  silk-tufted  window-seat  rested  a  gold- em- 
broidered cushion,  on  the  cushion  a  golden  crucifix, 
a  sparkling  medallion,  and  a  white,  ivory  plate.  The 
prince  raised  his  hand  almost  in  prayer  as  he  gasped, 
"  My  God  in  heaven,  IT  is  REAL  !  " 

Then  he  recalled  his  vow?  and  though  the  few 
remaining  leaves  hung  drearily  upon  almost  empty 
branches,  and  Winter,  one  foot  on  the  threshold,  was 
nodding  his  frosty  head  to  the  people  of  the  land,  it 
only  hastened  his  movements,  and  ordering  his 
caldche  to  be  fully  prepared,  he  made  immediate 
arrangements  for  a  trip  to  Poland.  Though  the  sky 
was  heavy  and  dull,  that  somber  leaden  hue  that 
comes  creeping  up  from,  the  north  lands  when  the 
stork  and  the  heron  fly  southward,  though  the  wind 
wailed  through  the  naked  branches,  and  straggling 
leaves  that  longer  than  their  fellows  had  clung  to  the 
old  trunk  came  rattling  down,  chanting  by  the  way  a 
weird  funeral  march  to  the  summer-time  that  they 
were  burying,  he  had  vowed  he  would  go  to  Aran- 
tha,  come  what  might  of  it ;  and  to  Arantha  he  went. 

He  had  time  in  abundance  for  the  laying  of  plans 
through  the  long  hours,  broken  only  by  the  rattle  of 
the  wheels  and  the  rumble  of  the  horses'  hoofs ;  but 
plans  he  had  none  to  lay.  He  was  simply  going  to 
Arantha  —  going  to  see  the  miller's  daughter;  doubt- 
less to  ask  to  be  forgiven  ;  but  to  nothing  more  than 
that  had  he  given  a  thought.  This  was  not  a  pleasure 
trip, — it  was  a  penance.  The  prince  was  not  fastidious 
for  luxury  at  any  time,  least  of  all  when  on  a  hasty 
pilgrimage.  He  left  his  servants  at  the  first  post-sta- 
tion, with  directions  to  wait  there  and  be  momentarily 
on  the  watch  for  him.  He  took  four  post-horses  in 


AN    ECHO    FROM    DEEP    IN    A    MIRE.  167 

the  place  of  his  own,  and  a  post-driver.  They  were 
changed  at  every  station  and  driven  hard.  Night 
and  day  the  caleche  was  dragged  along  at  a  rattling 
pace  by  the  tough  little  horses,  urged  by  well-feed 
drivers.  It  is  surprising  how  short  a  long  journey 
might  be  made  in  Russia  where  everything  was 
ready,  and  money  spurred  the  mare. 

The  roads  became  narrower,  the  trees  thicker,  the 
hills  steeper,  and  the  horses'  feet,  crushing  through 
the  drifts  of  leaves  as  they  galloped  down  the  hills, 
sounded  like  the  crackling  and  roaring  of  a  fire  in 
the  forest. 

But  Victor  Reppoun  took  no  hint  from  this  new 
face  of  nature.  He  could  'not  realize  that  marring, 
tearing  Time  could  deface  the  beauties  of  that  nature 
that  was  still  represented  in  his  mind  as  "  Hardly 
nineteen,  I  think,  and  a  village  girl  at  that." 

It  was  night  when  they  stopped  at  the  station  in 
Arantha,  and  the  gouty  old  landlord  of  the  inn  and 
official  of  the  station  did  not  recognize  his  guest  of 
eleven  years  before.  He  would  not  have  recognized 
him  had  it  been  broad  daylight. 

As  he  sat  in  the  same  little  -window  looking  west- 
ward, Prince  Victor  could  not  but  compare  the  night 
when  he  had  watched  before,  and  now,  when  clouds 
hung  heavy  and  dark  over  the  mill,  with  the  strange 
similarity  of  difference  in  himself.  Yet  even  then  it 
would  not  occur  to  him  that  Kathi  Chichkini  could 
have  changed. 

The  forests  were  unnatural  as  he  entered  them. 
The  stream  rippled  no  longer,  but  rushed,  a  muddy 
river,  swollen  with  the  fall  rains.  Suddenly  he 
stopped.  A  crooked  linden  told  him  he  stood  where 


1 68  CASTLE    FOAM. 

he  had  once  fallen  into  the  water.  He  turned  to  the 
grotto.  What  a  ruin  !  The  outline  of  the  huge  log 
in  the  center  was  marked  by  a  growth  of  coarse 
marsh-moss  and  lichens.  The  rankest,  hardiest  ferns 
had  choked  the  colored  grasses  and  killed  the  white- 
bells  and  the  blue-bells.  The  trailing  vines,  unguided, 
lay  upon  the  ground  in  tangled  masses,  or  hung 
like  weeping-willow  limbs  from  the  naked  branches. 
A  poisonous,  offensive,  malarial  damp  rose  from  the 
whole,  Victor  Reppoun's  horse  turned  toward  the 
lake.  He  did  not  stop  him.  No  little  boat  lay  on 
the  water ;  no  little  footpath  led  from  the  lake  either 
way.  But  the  old  gnarled  trunk  was  there,  as  strong 
and  ragged  and  gray  as  the  day  she  had  turned  back 
again  to  its  protection.  "Has  she  gone  too?"  he 
asked  the  tree,  fiercely,  as  though  it  had  stolen  her. 

He  drew  rein  at  the  mill-door.  Nothing  else  was 
left  him,  and  a  hollow  sound  that  echoed  from  the 
stroke  of  his  whip-handle  made  him  tremble.  But  an 
old  man  opened  the  door, — the  same  old  man  with 
the  same  keen  eye, — and  with  almost  a  cry  of  joy  the 
prince  exclaimed  in  French,  "Father,  I  am  a  traveler, 
may  I  buy  my  dinner  here?  " 

The  old  man  answered  him  in  pure  Russian,  "  Aye, 
aye,  traveler,  you  are  welcome  to  what  my  isba  holds. 
Only  take  it  without  paying,  traveler." 

"You  take  me  for  a  Russian,"  said  the  prince. 

"Aye,  traveler;  and  being  a  Russian  myself,  I 
thought  I'd  warn  you  to  be  well  out  of  Poland  by  sun- 
set to-morrow,  for  sure's  the  sun  sets,  the  Tzar  will 
leap  in  his  throne  to  hear  that  Poland  has  revolted 
from  his  crown." 

"  Poland  revolted  !  " 


»  AN    ECHO    FROM    DEEP    IN    A    MIRE.  169 

"Aye,  my  lord  traveler,  Poland  revolted  heart  and 
soul." 

"And  you  a  Russian  and  not  afraid  to  stay?" 

"I'm  more  afraid  to  be  in  Russia.  Listen  a  bit, 
and  while  you  eat  I'll  tell  you." 

The  same  gaunt  woman  brought  in  a  tray  and 
smoking  samovar.  The  isba  was  not  so  tasteful  and 
neat  as  it  had  been.  The  old  miller,  sitting  astride 
the  farther  corner  of  the  table,  one  foot  swinging  in 
the  air,  began  his  story. 

"Listen,  traveler.  I've  never  told  this  to  a  living 
soul,  and  for  the  men's  names  I'm  sworn  upon  the 
images  to  keep  them  secret  still ;  but  they've  broken 
faith  with  me,  and  what  I  may  I  tell  you  gladly,  be- 
ing it's  you  that  treated  the  little  girl  so  well." 

The  prince  smiled,  and  said,  "You  have  a  keen 
eye,  father." 

"I  was  a  soldier,  a  little  officer  under  General 
Kramareff,  in  Suwarrow's  camp,  in  1798,  under  the 
flag  of  Paul.  For  what  I  did  at  the  battle  of  Liman 
Suwarrow  put  his  hand  upon  my  head  and  said, 
f  Brave  man ! ;  We  went  into  winter-quarters  the 
first  of  1799,  and  I  asked  my  officers  to  let  me  go 
long  enough  to  see  my  little  wife  for  just  a  day,  for 
we  were  only  three  days  married  when  they  tore  me 
away  from  her.  Oh,  but  they  laughed  at  me  !  Then 
I  dreamed  that  my  little  love  lay  sick,  and, 
faith  !  I  knew  she  had  no  money  and  could  have  no 
food.  Oh,  traveler,  those  were  my  boyish  days,  and 
my  heart  ached,  for  I  loved  her.  One  night  I  was 
on  guard  in  mid-winter.  Suwarrow  came  dashing 
through  the  camp,  his  horse  without  a  saddle,  he 
without  a  shirt  or  shoe.  Making  that  I  thought  it  an 


170  CASTLE    FOAM.  - 

enemy,  I  seized  the  horse's  head  and  cried  '  Halt ! ' 
I  stopped  him,  though  it  almost  cost  my  life.  The 
great  general  smiled,  and  said,  'Well  done!  What 
shall  I  do  for  you?  '  So  I  asked  him  to  let  me  go, 
and  he  laughed  at  me.  '  A  dame  should  send  sol- 
diers out,  not  call  them  back,  or  she's  a  devil,  not  a 
dame,'  said  he.  Aye,  traveler,  an  hour  later,  mount- 
ed on  that  very  horse  of  his,  I  was  going  madly  as 
the  horse  could  go  for  Russia.  I  reached  there  be- 
fore a  soul  could  overtake  me,  and  I  found  that  little 
devil  that  had  called  me  back.  I  found  her  dead,  a 
frozen  corpse,  weeks  old ;  and  in  that  terrible  winter 
not  a  soul  left  with  strength  to  bury  her.  I  swore  for 
vengeance  ;  then  set  the  isba  burning,  and  tried  to  per- 
ish in  the  flames.  But  the  smoke  stifled  me,  and  my 
courage  failed.  A  young  boy,  who  had  been  playing 
soldier  under  General  Kramareff,  met  me  afterward  not 
fifty  versts  southward  from  Petersburg.  He  was  alone 
in  a  post-troika.  He  said,  '  Man,  I  know  you  !  You 
stole  a  horse,  and  deserted  the  Russian  army.  You 
shall  be  shot.  But  stay  !  If  you  will  do  something 
for  me  you  shall  not  be  betrayed.'  Traveler,  I  was  a 
wanderer,  a  licensed  peddler  to  be  sure,  but  homeless, 
friendless,  and  mad.  Life  was  the  only  sweet  thing 
that  I  knew,  and  that  was  bitter  too.  Still  it  was  easy 
to  tell  him  I  would  do  anything  he  asked  to  save  that 
life.  'Get  in,'  he  said.  I  got  in."  The  old  miller's 
voice  began  to  tremble,  his  eyes  were  brighter  than 
ever,  glazed  with  tears.  K '  Here  is  a  little  bundle,' 
he  said,  pointing  to  the  seat  in  front  of  us.  'Be  care- 
ful, it  is  valuable.  You  may  open  it  when  I  am  gone'. 
Open  it  carefully.  Here  is  a  bag  of  gold.  Use  it  to 


AN    ECHO    FROM    DEEP    IN    A   MIRE.  171 

care  for  that  bundle.  Go  into  Poland.  Stop  in  some 
quiet  place  and  live,  and  so  long  as  you  live  and  care 
for  that  bundle  I  will  support  you.  Fear  nothing,  no 
harm  can  come  of  it ;  but  for  the  love  of  your  life  and 
soul  let  no  Russian  nobleman  know  of  it  or  see  it ! 
Swear  this  upon  the  cross.'  I  made  the  cross,  and 
swore  it.  The  gold  and  the  promise  of  support  were 
tempting." 

The  miller  paused ;  his  voice  was  husky.  The 
tears  no  longer  waited  in  his  eyes. 

"And  the  bundle?"  asked  the  prince,  an  ominous 
trembling  in  his  heart. 

"  The  bundle,  traveler,  —  it  ivas  a  baby  girl  !  " 

"Not  —  " 

"Aye,  traveler,  Kathi  Ctiichkini." 

"Then  she  was  not  your  child?  " 

"  My  child  !  Lord,  she  was  better  stock  ten  thou- 
sand-fold than  could  have  come  from  me  !  She  -was  an 
angel,  traveler,  an  angel  born  in  God's  own  Paradise." 
The  miller's  face  grew  radiant.  He  sprang  from  the 
table  and  raised  both  hands  devoutly. 

"Born  where?  "  thundered  the  prince. 

The  miller  started.  "  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,  trav- 
eler, I  did  not  mean  it.  But  she  was  lovely." 

"  Born  where,  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  I  said  in  Paradise  ;  but  though  it's  not  supposed  I 
know,  one  night  when  they  thought  I'd  gone  to  town, 
they  two  as  came  down  from  Petersburg  to  see  about 
her  several  times,  I  heard  them -saying,  one  to  the 
other,  that  she  was  daughter  of  a  Russian  noble- 
man." 

"  And  she  is  noble  !  "     Victor  Reppoun's  head  fell 


172  CASTLE    FOAM. 

heavily  upon  the  table.  The  miller  was  crying  like  a 
child,  and  did  not  notice  it. 

"And  what  of  her  to-day?"  the  prince  asked,  with 
a  shudder  that  shook  the  very  depth  of  his  being. 

"  Gone  !  "  said  the  miller. 

"Gone!  and  gone  where?"  he  asked,  looking  up 
suddenly. 

"  Gone  these  ten  years  and  more.  Gone  within  a 
month  of  the  time  you  saw  her  last." 

"  And  where  ?  "     He  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"Lord  knows  where,  traveler.  One  of  'em  came 
alone  and  took  her,  not  the  one  that  left  her  with  me. 
Gone  —  married,  I  heard  them  tell,  some  years  after- 
ward." 

"  Gone,  married  !  "  groaned  the  prince,  as  he  stag- 
gered toward  the  door.  He  said  nothing  further  till 
he  had  mounted,  then  suddenly  recollecting  himself  he 
turned,  and  threw  a  purse  at  the  miller's  feet,  saying : 

"  Thanks  for  your  story,  father.  If  the  knaves  have 
not  kept  faith  with  you,  come  back  to  St.  Petersburg, 
find  them  out,  and  bring  them  to  terms,  and  if  they 
have  you  arrested  as  a  deserter,  send  word  to  the 
Prince  von  Meerschaum,  and  I  will  have  you  freed." 

"The  Prince  von  Meerschaum  !"  repeated  the  miller, 
as  his  guest  rode  away.  "That's  one  of  the  greatest 
names  of  Russia.  I've  heard  it  many  times,  and  now 
I've  seen  the  great  man  in  my  own  isba.  Lord !  I 
forgot  to  tell  him  how  to  get  away  if  they  took  him  for 
a  Russian.  He's  headstrong  by  the  look,  and,  by  my 
faith !  I  reckon  his  son,  if  he  have  one,  will  be  the 
Prince  von  Meerschaum  before  to-morrow  night." 

As  for  Victor  Reppoun,  he   had    no  thought  nor 


AN  ECHO  FROM  DEEP  IN  A  MIRE.       173 

wish  to  seek  further.  His  heart  and  life  seemed  black 
as  though  wrapped  in  the  Egyptian  night,  or  buried 
in  the  gulf  of  gloom  where  in  stellar  glory  the  lurid 
Cassiopia  had  burned  and  flickered  out.  "My  God, 
what  an  ending!"  he  groaned,  and  left  the  mill  and 
the  forest,  and  the  bright  star  of  his  life,  forever 
behind  him. 


1 74  CASTLE    FOAM. 


CHAPTER    III. 

SHE  WAS   NOT   PERFECT. 

THE  prince  was  returning  as    he  went,  day  and 
night  traveling  and  rapid  stages,  when  General 

Wolzonn  rode  toward    the  Castle    Schaum.     Seeing 

Victor  playing  with  Gabriel,  he  stopped  his  horse,  and 

walked  over  the  grass  to  meet  him. 

Victor,  with  a  shout  of  joy,  sprang  upon  the  back 

of  a  huge  St.  Bernard,  burying  one  hand  in  his  neck, 

cutting  him  over  the  ears  with  a  whip  he  held  in  the 

other. 

"Bravo,  Vick  ! "  exclaimed  the  officer,  as  the  boy 

dismounted  at  his  feet.     "  Another  year  you'll  break 

his  back." 

"  Hi !  hi !  "  laughed  the  boy.     "  Another  year  I'll 

have  a  horse.    Papa 's  going  to  bring  me  one  when  he 

comes  home." 

"  And  is  your  papa  away?     I  wanted  to  see  him." 
"Oh,  yes ;  he's  been  away  about  a  year." 
"But  I  saw  him  less  than  a  month  ago,  I  think." 
"Well,  then,  I've  been  waiting  a  year  for  the  pony, 

any  way." 

The  boy,  already  wearying  of  the  catechism,  turned 

gracefully  heels  over  head  on  the  grass,  and  started  to 

run  away. 


SHE    WAS    NOT    PERFECT.  175 

"  Victor,  wait  a  minute,"  the  officer  called.  "  I  have 
brought  you  something." 

For  this  inducement  the  boy  returned. 

"What  would  you  do  with  a  horse  if  you  had  one?" 

"  Do  with  him?  Why,  just  what  you  do  with  yours. 
I'd  make  him  go." 

"But  you'd  need  a  longer  whip  than  that." 

"  I  think  I  should.  Is  that  what  you've  brought  me  ?  " 
he  asked,  with  a  boy's  quick  perception.  The  officer 
took  his  hand  from  behind  his  back,  presenting  the 
boy  a  handsome  riding-whip,  a  broad  band  of  gold 
about  the  hand-rest,  on  one  side  of  which  was  the  coat- 
of-arms  of  the  house  of  Meerschaum  (a  bird  sitting 
upon  a  solitary  peak  of  rock,  against  which  the  ocean 
waves  were  breaking  high  in  foam),  and  on  the  other 
side  the  boy's  initials  set  in  tiny  diamonds. 

"That's  pretty,"  said  the  boy,  and  took  his  other 
whip  in  both  hands  to  break  it,  but  paused  with  his 
little  knee  in  air,  turned  suddenly,  and  threw  it 
toward  his  playfellow,  crying,  "  Come  and  pick  that 
up,  and  keep  it,  Gabriel,  and  I'll  give  you  this  too,  if 
papa  has  a  prettier  one  for  me." 

This  being  all  the  thanks  General  Wolzonn  was 
likely  to  receive,  as  the  boy  had  run  away,  (more, 
perhaps,  than  he  had  expected,)  he  returned  to  his 
horse.  As  he  was  mounting,  Count  Olendorff's  coach 
rolled  by,  driven  at  a  furious  pace. 

The  old  count  had  been  paying  his  annual  respects 
to  the  castle.  It  was  the  regular  reception-day,  and 
the  princess  sat  in  state  in  the  long  salon,  with  its 
three  narrow  and  tall  windows  draped  with  Italian 
web,  all  upon  one  end  of  the  room,  and  a  copy  of  the 
Apollo  Belvedere,  guarded  by  one  of  Praxiteles'  Mar- 


176  CASTLE    FOAM. 

ble  Fawn,  in  opposite  corners  of  the  other  end,  where 
all  was  shadowy  twilight  on  the  brightest  day.  Long 
lines  of  oil-paintings  connected  the  windows  and  the 
statues  on  either  side.  If  she  were  happy  there,  she 
did  not  look  it ;  if  she  were  sad,  she  would  not  show 
it.  A  narrow  spray  of  sunlight  that  had  first  wan- 
dered through  the  clouds,  then  through  the  trees,  and 
after  all  through  one  of  the  three  long,  gloomy  sen- 
tinels at  the  end  of  the  salon,  fell  timidly  in  the 
strange,  dim  place,  down  upon  a  South-Indian  tiger's 
skin.  One  of  the  yellow  eyes  flashed  back  the  yel- 
low light  of  the  little  wanderer.  In  the  bright  trail 
it  left  behind  it  from  the  window  to  the  tiger's  skin 
particles  of  dust  were  floating  slowly  and  darting 
swiftly,  utterly  regardless  of  the  great  law  of  gravi- 
tation, when  the  count  stepped  into  the  midst  of  them. 

He  grasped  the  hand  of  the  princess  with  bachelor 
cordiality,  saying  with  the  kiss  : 

"It  gives  me  great  pleasure,  Lady  Princess  von 
Meerschaum,  to  greet  you  again,  your  cheek  still 
bright  with  good  health,  and  enjoying  such  unbounded 
luxury." 

For  years  this  had  been  a  stereotyped  genesis  with 
Count  Olendorff.  But  though  so  often  repeated  that 
his  friends  knew  the  form  by  heart,  were  always  pre- 
pared for  it,  and  never  disappointed,  though  pain  and 
poverty  sat  with  them  to  receive,  yet  the  count  had  a 
way  of  saying  it  every  time  as  if  it  were  something 
altogether  new. 

"With  so  many  causes  for  happiness,  how  could  I 
be  otherwise?"  asked  the  princess.  Yet  a  shadow 
flitted  across  her  face  that  seemed  to  give  her  words 
the  lie. 


SHE    WAS    NOT    PERFECT.  1 77 

"I  suppose  so,"  grunted  the  old  man,  as  he  settled 
himself  into  a  chair  and  began  rolling  a  gold-headed 
cane  about  his  soft,  wrinkled  fingers  with  an  evident 
relish  that  made  one  watching  long  for  something  just 
so  round  to  roll  with  him. 

He  had  hardly  finished  his  round  of  stereotypes  — 
after  which  time  he  always  contented  himself  with 
answering  questions  and  saying  "  I  suppose  so "  — 
when  the  priest  Charlovitz  was  announced. 

The  count  rose  hurriedly  to  go.  He  was  much  op- 
posed to  the  sacred  things  of  Russia,  —  to  all  sacred 
things,  in  truth,  those  of  Russia  only  in  particular. 
South  German  by  birth,  he  had  been  left  in  early  life 
to  the  teaching  of  powerful  Jesuits.  Long  ago  he  had 
forgotten  most  of  their  pedantry,  and  only  on  rare 
occasions,  when  his  old  heart  and  long-subjected  con- 
science called  for  something  stronger  than  wine,  more 
pungent  than  his  pipe, — when  sickness  threatened, 
and  pipe  and  wine  failed  altogether,  and  thoughts  of 
the  by-and-by  made  him  tremble,  —  did  he  call  for  his 
old-fashioned  book  of  prayer,  and  tell  over  dismally, 
one,  two,  three,  all  the  beads  on  his  ancient  rosary. 
'To  bitterly  hate  the  Greek  priest  and  creed  was  the 
sum  and  substance  of  the  old  man's  every-day  re- 
ligion. 

"  Humph  !  I'm  too  late,"  he  growled,  as  the  door 
opened. 

The  priest's  salaam  was  very  low,  though  he  did 
not  remove  his  square  black  cap,  a  license  of  office 
over  everything  else,  of  which  the  quiet  priest  never 
failed  to  avail  himself.  He  said  : 

"It  was  not  told  me  I  should  intrude  upon  anyone, 
or  I  should  not  have  come." 
12 


178  CASTLE    FOAM. 

The  count  caught  at  the  straw,  and  started  to  go, 
but  could  not  carry  out  the  plan. 

The  priest's  message  was  short.  He  asked  relief 
for  one  of  the  afflicted  families  of  Schaumburg,  who 
were  unable  to  pay  the  rent  that  was  due.  The  lady 
sent  for  her  purse  and  presented  it,  when  he  bowed 
himself  out  with  as  much  of  Oriental  suavity  as  ever 
graced  the  Bramin  in  the  royal  colonnades  of  Oude 
upon  the  Hoogly. 

"  Strange  sort  of  a  priest  that,"  the  count  said  as 
the  door  closed.  "Yes,  yes,  very  strange;  is  he  not, 
your  ladyship  ?  " 

"  A  little  hard  to  understand,  my  lord,  but  one  whom 
you  may  like  better  as  you  know  him  well.  There  is 
none  of  the  sanctimonious  goodness  so  insipid  in  many 
priests.  I  really  adore  Father  Charlovitz.  I  believe 
I  should  go  quite  on  a  pilgrimage  if  he  bade  me." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  suppose  so,"  said  the  count;  and  with 
a  mental  observation,  "It  will  work  like  a  charm,  if 
it  will  work  at  all,"  he  took  his  leave,  directing  that 
he  be  driven  with  all  speed  to  Isak  Bridge. 

This  accounted  for  the  rapid  motion  of  the  coach  as 
it  passed  General  Wolzonn,  who  made  his  way  at 
once  to  the  castle. 

"You  are  not  a  very  frequent  visitor  of  late,"  said 
the  princess,  extending  both  her  hands. 

"  To  my  sorrow,  I  am  not,  my  lady.  I  have  been 
in  Olen  for  a  month,  and  am  to  be  stationed  there 
hereafter." 

"  We  could  scarcely  see  less  of  you  were  you  stationed 
in  Moscow." 

The  bright  color  had  long  ago  faded  from  my  lady's 
face,  and  the  brisk  enthusiasm  from  her  voice,  and  the 


SHE    WAS    NOT    PERFECT.  1 79 

quick,  sharp  glance  from  those  dark,  full  eyes.  Only 
the  firmly  outlined  mouth  and  other  expressions  of  a 
strong  will  remained.  They  were  unpleasantly  in- 
tensified. 

It  must  not  be  inferred  from  this  that  the  Princess 
von  Meerschaum  was  a  withered  hag  at  thirty-three. 
She  was  a  regal  beauty  when  she  chose  to  smile,  and 
far  beyond  the  average  beauty  of  women  of  thirty- 
three  at  any  time.  But  this  solemn  shadow  that 
oftenest  hung  about  her  face  was  something  new. 
Constantine  Wolzonn  had  noted  its  frequent  coming 
and  tardy  going  with  an  increasing  sadness  in  his 
heart.  He  had  known  that  its  cause  could  be  nothing 
else  than  what  he  had  predicted.  But  his  lips,  fast 
sealed  by  that  stinging  rebuke  of  eleven  years  before, 
dreaded  to  open.  To-day  he  was  more  than  ever  im- 
pressed with  the  conviction  that  she  suffered  the  tor- 
ments he  had  warned  her  of,  and  accepted  her  in- 
vitation to  drink  coffee  with  her,  mentally  resolving 
that,  come  what  might,  he  would  speak  again. 

"  I  am  her  nearest  living  kin,"  said  he.  "  She  must 
speak,  she  must  tell  me.  It  is  my  duty  and  hers." 

Once,  twice,  three  times  he  tried  to  speak  while 
toying  with  the  thick,  white  foam  that  crusted  the 
smoking  coffee,  and  at  last,  conceiving  of  no  way  but 
his  own  blunt  fashion,  he  came  to  the  point  at  once. 

"You  are  sad,  my  lady." 

"  Sad,  cousin.  I  believe  I  was  born  sad  ;  "  she  smiled 
faintly  ;  "  but  too  much  laughing  is  not  becoming  in  a 
lady.  Qnite  the  contrary  in  a  soldier,  and  a  bachelor 
at  that.  You  of  all  men  in  the  world  should  be  happy, 
yet  since  I  was  a  child,  and  you  let  me  romp  with  you 
in  the  fields,  I  have  not  seen  you  laugh.  Is  it  some- 


l8o  CASTLE    FOAM. 

thing  that  runs  in  the  blood?  At  this  moment  you  are 
not  half  thinking  of  what  I  am  saying.  Come  now, 
be  cousinly  and  confess :  what  is  it  keeps  you  always 
sad  ?  " 

She  had  taken  the  words  out  of  his  mouth,  or,  still 
more,  she  had  told  him  precisely  what  he  should  have 
said.  Such  an  unexpected  question  almost  threw  him 
off  his  guard ;  but  not  to  be  baffled  at  the  very  first, 
he  selected  the  only  part  of  her  question  that  promised 
to  aid  him  to  his  point,  and  replied,  "You  are  partly 
right  and  partly  wrong,  my  lady.  They  say  the  brain 
is  double,  and  can  think  two  things  at  once.  It  must 
be  so,  for  I  surely  heard  what  you  were  saying,  but 
as  surely  I  was  thinking  of  that  time,  long  years  ago, 
when  we  went,  one  night  in  Switzerland,  up  to  that 
old  witch's  den.  Do  you  remember?  " 

"I  have  stepped  on  dangerous  ground, "thought  the 
princess.  "Will  he  never  cease  vexing  me  about  my 
miseries  ?  "  But  there  was  not  a  tremor  in  her  voice  as 
she  replied,  "  No,  cousin,  I  hardly  remember.  What 
was  there  peculiar  about  it?  " 

"Is  it  possible?"  asked  the  general  in  unfeigned 
surprise.  How  could  he  know  that  for  months  she 
had  done  little  else  than  brood  herself  melancholy 
over  that  strange  prophecy,  curse  the  witch,  wish  she 
had  never  gone,  wonder  by  what  mysterious  power 
she  had  known  the  future,  and  hope  that  her  cousin 
Wolzonn  had  long  ago  forgotten  it?  He  even  began 
to  explain,  "  There  was  nothing  so  very  peculiar,  ex- 
cept in  the  fortune  she  told  you,"  when,  looking  up,  a 
deep  blush,  that  tinged  the  lady's  face  in  spite  of  her- 
self, told  him  the  truth  in  an  instant. 

"Ah,  yes  !    I  do  remember  now,"  replied  the  prin- 


SHE    WAS    NOT    PERFECT.  I»I 

cess,  perhaps  suspecting  that  he  had  fathomed  the 
thoughts  she  was  thinking.  "  It  was  a  beautiful 
moonlight  night,  was  it  not?  It  seems  a  hundred 
years  ago.  And  that  infamous  fortune,  a  wretched 
lie  !  It  is  quite  time  you  had  forgotten  it." 

"But  I  cannot,  lady.  It  hangs  about  me  like  the 
cross  in  the  path  of  the  Wandering  Jew,  and  sits  a 
nightmare  by  my  bed.  Is  it  every  word  a  lie,  lady?" 

"  Sir  !     You  do  not  mean  —  " 

"  Indeed  I  do  not  mean  anything,"  interrupted  the 
general,  trembling  lest  the  old  rebuke  were  on  the 
way  again.  "  I  was  simply  wondering  if  it  were  pos- 
sible." 

"  And  what  is  that  to  you  if  it  be  possible  ?  " 

"Much,  very  much,  lady.     For — •" 

She  interrupted  him,  her  lips  quivering,  the  old  fire 
in  her  eyes,  and  an  angry  flush  spreading  over  her 
cheeks.  "Do  you  pity  me  as  a  suffering  mortal, 
pray?" 

This  was  too  much.  It  was  a  pointed  lie,  or  the 
whole  truth.  Constantine  Wolzonn  did  not  think 
twice.  He  would  sooner  have  fought  the  whole  of 
St.  Petersburg  in  a  rebellion,  but  he  fell  upon  his 
knees  before  her,  exclaiming,  "Yes,  my  lady,  /  do 
pity  you." 

The  princess  rose  to  her  feet  in  a  fury  that  well 
became  her.  It  made  her  calm.  She  pointed  her 
finger  coldly  at  the  kneeling  officer,  and  slowly, 
scornfully  said,  "  Do  you  think  I  should  have  done 
better  to  have  married  my  fathers  murderer?  " 

Constantine  Wolzonn  staggered  to  his  feet,  white  as 
the  marble  stand  upon  which  his  hand  rested  for  sup- 
port. 


l82  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"  Enough  !  enough  !  "  he  said.  "  I  will  say  no  more. 
I  am  ashamed  of  that  dreadful  crime,  but  not  ashamed 
that  I  have  spoken  as  I  have  to  you.  Forget  me  if 
you  will,  Lady  Princess  von  Meerschaum,  you  shall 
have  abundant  opportunity ;  but  if  not,  you  must  at 
least  remember  that  there  are  circumstances  in  every 
life,  unknown  to  any  other  life,  that  do  mitigate  the 
awful  deeds  that  others  see."  They  parted  without 
a  farewell,  little  thinking  how  and  where  they  were 
destined  to  meet  again. 

When  he  was  gone  she  sank  into  a  chair  and 
buried  her  head  in  her  hands  upon  the  marble  table. 
"Oh  my  God!"  she  groaned,  "why  did  I  say 
that?  Have  I  no  will?  Have  I  no  courage?  When 
Count  OlendorfF  told  me,  ten  years  and  more  ago, 
I  vowed  it  should  never  pass  my  lips.  I  was  but 
a  year  old  when  it  was  done.  I  know  nothing  of 
those  mitigating  circumstances.  Such  deeds  were 
common  then,  and,  at  its  worst,  it  has  been  too  long 
buried  for  me  to  think  of  vengeance.  Oh,  why  should 
I  have  resurrected  it  now  of  all  times,  when  it  is 
impossible  for  me  to  think  or  wish  for  vengeance? 
He  vexed  me.  But  it  was  because  he  loved  me. 
Is  it  a  fault  that  I  should  punish  that  he  has  loved? 
Ye  gods  !  I  would  it  were  as  well  a  fault  of  the  Prince 
Reppoun  !  Why  will  he  never  love  me  ?  " 

This  was  a  wild  cry,  faintly  as  it  was  uttered,  a 
soul's  cry,  unveiling  a  horrible  interior,  a  living  tomb 
the  existence  of  which  her  cousin  had  so  correctly  es- 
timated. Grief  and  anger  together  became  too  strong 
for  words.  The  head  lay  on  the  folded  hands,  only 
an  irregular  motion  from  side  to  side  indicating  the 
torturing  thoughts  within. 


SHE    WAS    NOT    PERFECT.  183 

In  one  sense,  she  was  correct.  The  prince  had  early 
discovered  that  his  experiment  in  marriage  was  a  fail- 
ure, so  far  as  he  himself  was  concerned.  But  he  had 
vowed  that  from  simple  justice  to  his  wife,  she  should 
see  in  him  no  lack  of  the  most  scrupulous  kindness, 
never  dreaming  but  that  would  fill  the  measure  of  a 
woman's  verb  "  to  love ; "  and  he  lived  to  his  vow, 
though  in  itself  it  made  the  duty  almost  irksome,  and 
effectually  closed  any  probability  of  the  love  he  yet 
hoped  would  spring  up.  Politeness  from  a  sense  of 
duty  is  not  kindness ;  even  kindness  from  necessity 
is  radically  opposed  to  love.  He  had  sternly  held  to 
principle  through  ten  long  years,  though  sometimes 
sorely  tempted  to  make  some  sweeping  sacrifice,  give 
over  the  struggle,  and  be  an  exile,  a  hermit  in  some 
far-away  corner,  to  expiate  in  silence  the  folly  (what 
folly,  he  was  not  yet  quite  sure)  of  the  memorable  year 
1821,  leaving  to  Victor  and  his  mother  all  that  he 
could  leave  — everything,  except  himself.  Injustice 
to  him  be  it  said,  that  until  the  echo  came  back  from 
deep  in  the  mire,  he  had  not  for  one  instant  thought 
of  seeing  Kathi  Chichkini  again,  and  that  he  went, 
not  as  a  lover  for  clandestine  cooing  in  the  romance 
of  the  woods,  but  as  a  pilgrim  to  kneel  at  a  dishonored 
altar  and  plead  for  absolution. 

Indeed  the  thought  of  leaving  Victor  had  many 
times  acted  to  prevent  him  from  thinking  more  deeply 
at  least  of  an  unlimited  exile.  He  would  groan  in 
spirit,  "It  is  all  in  vain  that  I  wait  and  long.  Oh 
Kathi,  will  you  wreck  my  life  as  utterly  as  I  would  have 
wrecked  yours?  Merciful  God,  it  would  be  a  just 
punishment  if  I  could  bear  it  all  alone !  "  But  how  could 
he  bear  it  alone?  How  could  he  voluntarily  leave 


184  CASTLE    FOAM. 

that  boy  in  whom  centered  all  the  adoration  and 
admiration  of  his  life  ?  Victor  alone,  thoroughly, 
unwittingly,  cheered  many  a  heavy  hour,  and  oppor- 
tunely many  a  time  appeared,  a  bright,  laughing 
reality,  to  disperse  the  almost  overpowering  gloom. 

One  such  occasion  was  when  the  prince  waited  for 
the  arrival  of  his  caleche  for  the  last  trip  to  Poland. 
He  was  saying  to  himself  "  If  this  last  venture  shall 
bring  no  relief,  then  I  will  not  come  home  again," 
when  the  child,  followed  close  b}'-  Gabriel,  came  run- 
ning up  for  a  boy's  farewell. 

"And  what  will  you  bring  me,  papa  ?"  asked  he. 

"And  what  do  you  want,  Victor?" 

"  I  want  a  pony." 

In  an  instant  thoughts  of  a  hermitage  vanished  be- 
fore the  thoughts  of  that  happy  face  that  would  greet 
him  if  he  returned  with  a  pony,  and  he  promised,  "Be 
a  good  boy,  Victor,  love  mamma,  and  don't  get  angry, 
and  when  I  come  back  I  will  bring  you  a  pony." 

With  a  merry  shout  Victor  ran  away  to  build  air- 
castles  with  Gabriel ;  such  palaces  as  happy  child- 
hood is  forever  building,  fashioned  after  that  city  of 
palaces,  with  gates  of  one  great  pearl,  and  streets  of 
virgin  gold,  and  trees  of  life,  and  flowers  that  never 
fade,  growing  on  crystal  rivers;  palaces  where  no 
death  is  planned,  neither  sorrow  nor  crying,  in  a  land 
where  night  and  winter  never  come.  Beautiful  man- 
sions !  would  they  might  keep  them.  Beautiful  homes  ! 
would  they  might  live  in  them.  Alas,  that  it  should 
be  so  !  that  the  hands  of  the  little  architects  must  grow 
rough  and  callous  on  the  brick  and  sandstone  of  the 
world,  till  their  Golden  Tower,  like  that  of  Thebes,  is 
but  a  precious  treasured  ruin  of — 


SHE   WAS   NOT    PERFECT.  185 

"The  lost,  the  unforgotten, 
Though  the  world  be  oft  forgot ;  " 

and  the  memory  of  the  flowers  comes  back  again 
only  like  the  breath  of  the  coffee  groves  as  it  is 
wafted  in  dreams  about  the  Cingalese  bondman  pil- 
lowed on  his  iron  scoop  in  the  diamond  mines  of 
South  America. 

It  had  indeed  seemed  "a  year"  to  the  boy  while 
he  was  waiting  for  the  pony  ;  to  his  mother  a  strangely 
long  time  too.  Something  had  filled  her  soul  with 
unaccountable  misgivings  ;  possibly  it  was  only  his 
absence  at  such  a  season,  coming  without  warning  or 
explanation.  Sometimes,  with  a  shudder,  she  had 
almost  asked  herself  if  it  were  possible  that  she  had 
driven  him  away ;  and  she  watered  this  fear,  as  she 
had  watered  many  a  fear  and  disappointment  in  her 
life,  with  generous  floods  of  tears.  Tears  are  an 
excellent  advocate  of  woman  versus  man ;  but  there 
is  a  subtler  charm  in  the  cause  of  woman  for  man, 
that,  like  the  sacred  gem  of  India,  is  brighter  in 
shadow  than  in  sunlight  and  fairer  in  storm  than  in 
calm, — a  smile!  Try  it,  my  lady,  and  you  shall 
succeed. 

She  tried  it  afterward,  and  did  succeed ;  but  to  her 
dying  hour  she  did  not  know  it  was  a  victory. 

She  could  not,  if  she  would,  have  found  a  cause 
for  complaint  against  her  lord.  He  was  precisely 
what  he  was  upon  their  wedding-day,  —  what  she 
had  been  warned  that  he  would  be,  and  what  he  had 
been  every  day  of  the  ten  years  since,  —  the  very 
essence  and  perfection  of  politeness,  nothing  more. 
In  a  sense  her  love  for  him  had  grown  stronger,  but 
it  had  become  a  sort  of  desperate  love. 


l86  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"He  shall  love  me!"  she  declared,  rising  and 
walking  toward  the  fountain.  "The  old  Swiss  for- 
tune-teller has  been  too  true  so  far ;  but  I  will  con- 
quer him.  Have  I  not  already  bent  every  energy  of 
woman  to  the  end  that  he  should  love?  And  what 
have  I  been  to  him?  Just  as  his  horse  and  hound,  — 
a  dire  necessity  of  life,  to  be  petted  and  pampered 
just  because  I  belonged  to  him.  Should  I  be  satisfied 
with  this?  Have  I  not  fondled  his  feet  in  my  love, 
that  I  might  win  just  one  caress  ?  Is  it  because  I  am 
not  perfect?  Then  Heaven  help  me,  I  will  be  per- 
fect !  That  man  shall  bow  to  me,  if  it  must  be  to  do 
it  that  he  shall  stoop  to  shed  a  tear  upon  my  corpse  ! 
But  stay  —  I  just  remember  what  a  sting  there  is  in 
jealousy.  It  may  be  I  have  been  too  perfect,  after 
all.  I  have  at  last  succeeded  in  driving  off  even  my 
last,  my  truest  and  best  friend,  Constantine  Wolzonn. 
Why  should  I  thus  deprive  myself  of  every  one  be- 
cause deprived  of  him?  It  may  be  that  is  not  the 
way  to  win  the  heart  of  man." 

It  may  seem  madness  to  assert  that  in  a  sense  the 
Princess  von  Meerschaum  was  right,  and  yet  she 
was.  Far  be  it  from  any  honorable  soul  to  inculcate 
jealousy  as  a  means  to  love ;  but  in  this  particular 
case,  Victor  Reppoun,  though  he  sought  ideal  per- 
fection, could  well  have  stopped  short  of  the  goal  to 
have  loved  his  wife,  had  he  for  one  moment  thought 
of  her  as  she  was,  and  realized  the  treasure  he  had 
won  so  easily.  Even  Kathi  Chichkini  had  first  to 
attract  his  attention  before  she  gained  his  admiration, 
innocently  as  she  did  both  ;  but  the  circumstances  of 
his  courtship  and  marriage  had  been  such  that  in 
truth  the  Prince  von  Meerschaum  had  never  known 


SHE    WAS    NOT    PERFECT.  187 

his  wife.  He  readily  discovered  that  she  was  in  face 
and  figure  fit  mistress  for  Castle  Foam ;  that  she  was 
gentle,  kind,  devoted  to  her  duties,  faithful  to  her 
vows.  That  was  just  what  a  wife  should  be.  Beyond 
that  he  had  thought  of  her  only  as  a  self-imposed 
barrier  between  himself  and  Kathi  Chichkini,  and  a 
necessity  to  the  house  of  Meerschaum.  How  could 
that  encourage  admiration  ?  Something  must  surely 
attract  his  attention  to  other  charms.  She  possessed 
them  in  abundance.  If  nothing  else  would  do  it,  she 
was  right  in  thinking  of  the  sting  there  is  in  jealousy. 

The  air  was  growing  damp  with  evening,  and  the 
sky  a  faint  red  and  amber  hi  the  west,  not  so  bright 
and  warm  as  in  the  summer-time,  but  she  still  stood 
by  the  fountain  in  the  glass-walled  conservatory.  The 
thought  of  General  Wolzonn  had  driven  others  from 
her  mind.  She  was  gazing  dreamily  at  the  flashing 
fish  seeking  their  nooks  in  the  large  basin,  stand- 
ing beside  a  pedestal  from  which,  to  please  some  ill- 
understood  fancy,  a  stuffed  flamingo  had  been  re- 
moved, making  room  for  a  large  figure  of  Venus  sup- 
porting the  open  shell.  Her  arm  rested  on  the  foot 
of  the  marble  goddess. 

"What  a  life,"  she  sighed,  "devoid  of  trouble! 
Silenus  was  right:  'The  best  thing  for  a  mortal  is 
not  to  be  born  ;  the  next,  to  die  quick!)'.'" 

What  a  philosophy  for  a  princess  of  thirty-three  ! 
She  realized  the  fact  and  added,  "  How  strange  that 
I  should  think  so  !  —  I  who  cried  to  God  that  the  ideal 
of  my  happiness  was  to  be  the  wife  of  Prince  Rep- 
poun  !  I  who  presented  Father  Charlovitz  with  five 
thousand  rubles  because  he  won  for  me  that  place  ! 
I  who  have  been  his  wife  these  ten  years,  and  in  the 


l88  CASTLE    FOAM. 

midst  of  boundless  luxury  cannot  count  one  angry 
word  !  I  who  can  drive  my  last  friend  from  my  door, 
calling  him  a  murderer  !  Oh,  I  would  be  a  child  of 
Phorcys  and  Ceto,  even  in  serpent  locks,  to  have  some 
power  upon  the  man  I  love !  I  would  welcome  the 
beckoning  of  Mors,  if  I  knew  that  he  would  shed  one 
tear!  Oh,  Constantine  Wolzonn,  come  back  again! 
I  did  not  mean  to  drive  you  off!  I  hate  the  horde  of 
noblemen  that  kiss  my  hand  because  I  am  the  wife  of 
Prince  Reppoun  !  I  want  a  friend,  such  a  friend  as 
you  have  been  !  But  no ;  you'll  never  come  again  ! 
You  are  my  father's  murderer  !  " 

She  shuddered.  A  curl  fell  from  its  fastening  and 
touched  the  water  ;  her  face  was  bent  so  close  to  it.  She 
stood  erect,  and  was  pressing  the  water  from  the  lock 
of  her  light  hair,  when  she  instinctively  realized  that 
a  shadow  deeper  than  the  twilight  fell  over  the  foun- 
tain from  toward  the  west  behind  her,  and  turning 
suddenly,  exclaimed,  "Good  heavens  !  Monsieur  von 
Bremen  !  How  came  you  here  ?  I  did  not  look  for 
such  an  apparition." 


WELL    DONE  !  "  189 


CHAPTER    IV. 

"WELL   DONE!" 

"TT  7ELL,  well!    I  am  here  at  last,"  said  Count 

VV  Olendorff,  as  his  coach -wheels  rested  on 
Isak  Bridge,  and  a  head  was  thrust  into  the  window. 

"Yes — er — I  see,"  answered  the  head,  which,  with 
the  -shoulders  and  arms  and  legs  beneath  it,  consti- 
tuted much  of  Albrecht  von  Bremen  ;  "  and — er — and 
particularly  last  too,  if  I  know  the  time." 

"  A  little  behindhand  ?  I  suppose  so.  But  you've 
not  been  waiting  long,  hey  ?  " 

"Ah,  no,  not  long;  an  hour  is  not  so  long  when 
compared  with  a  lifetime,  as  it  seemed  this  chilly 
afternoon." 

The  old  man's  eyes  were  so  heavy  with  years  that 
he  did  not  note  the  drops  of  perspiration  not  yet  dry 
upon  the  speaker's  forehead. 

"  Well,  well,  I've  been  well  occupied,  to  say  the 
least.  I've  found  a  key  that  will  unlock  the  door  that 
you  and  I've  been  tugging  at  so  long.  Get  in  !" 

The  Dane  seated  himself. 

"Let  them  drive  me  to — er — er — yes,  yes,  Castle 
Schaum." 

The  master  passed  the  word  mechanically,  won- 
dering what  the  Dane  could  be  wishing  for  at  the 


IpO  CASTLE    FOAM. 

Foam,  when  he  added,  extending  his  hand,  "  And 
now,  my  lord,  for  the  — er —  the  key." 

"  The  key  !     Ha,  ha  !     That  was  a  metaphor." 

"A  metaphor  !  Oh  — er — yes,  I  see  ;  a  metaphor. 
Well,  let  us  have  the  metaphor." 

"  I  have  come  from  the  Princess  von  Meerschaum." 

"  Princess  Reppoun  ?  " 

"  The  same." 

"  Proceed,  my  lord,  proceed." 

"And  find  already  buried  in  the  heart  of  the  fam- 
ily one  who  can  materially  aid  you  in  your  plans. 
I  am  sure  of  it,  little  as  I  know  what  those  plans 
may  be." 

"  And  it's  well  for  them  and  me  that  you  do  not 
know,"  the  Dane  observed  mentally ;  but  aloud, 
"  You  say  this  marvel  is  buried.  Can  we  resurrect 
him  without  a  witch  of  Endor?" 

"Silence,  man!  I  tell  you  he  is  none  other  than 
their  Greek  priest  Charlovitz.  Sly  fellow !  The 
princess  told  me  she'd  go  on  a  pilgrimage  if  he  sent 
her." 

"I  wish  he  would,"  thought  Albrecht  von  Bremen, 
but  all  he  said  was,  "  H'm  —  a  pilgrimage." 

"Do  you  see?"  exclaimed  the  old  man  nervously. 

"  H'm  — er—  yes,  I  see  !  " 

"  And  what  do  you  think  of  it?  " 

"  A  Greek  priest  is  surely  a  sly  fellow,  you  are 
right  there  ;  and  as  for  a  woman  on  a  pilgrimage,  I 
hardly  know  what  to  think.  Let  them  drive  down 
to  the  village,  however.  The  fellow  may  be  of  some 
service,  for  the  -plans  are  ripe  at  last" 

Count  OlendorfF  started  like  one  shot,  but  dared  not 
ask  a  question.  He  had  learned  that  to  question 


WELL    DONE !  Ipl 

Albrecht  von  Bremen  was  like  calling  on  an  echo, 
until  he  chose  to  speak.  Only  one's  own  words  came 
back  to  him. 

They  reached  the  lovely  little  village  of  Schaum- 
burg.  History  proudly  reported  that  it  was  Peter  the 
Great  himself  who  honored  it  with  a  visit  of  inspec- 
tion when  completed,  and  christened  it  "  Schaum- 
burg."  It  had  increased  in  beauty  every  year,  and 
the  villagers  were  of  the  wealthiest,  proudest,  and 
happiest  serfs  of  Russia.  Such  a  serfdom  they  would 
have  been  foolish  to  exchange.  Yet  as  a  fact,  the 
largest  village  revenues  of  Castle  Foam  came  in  re- 
turn from  Schaumburg. 

It  was  the  closing  of  a  holiday.  The  merry  voices 
of  children  sounded  through  the  streets.  The  stream 
of  deep,  black  water,  cold  and  clear,  that  flowed 
swiftly  through  the  village,  dashed  against  the  tiny 
abutments  of  its  bridges  as  though  it  too  were  keep- 
ing holiday.  Garlands  of  harvest-flowers  hung  in 
the  windows.  The  children  wore  tiny  sheaves  upon 
their  shoulders.  It  was  the  "  Thanksgiving  Day  " 
of  Russia.  On  the  main  park  a  cluster  of  children 
were  winding  the  last  coil  of  the  day's  pleasure  in 
the  old-time  harvest-dance,  where  the  boys  stood  on 
one  side,  the  girls  on  the  other,  of  the  "charmed  cir- 
cle." A  boy  tossed  his  cap  in  the  air,  calling  the 
name  of  a  girl  opposite.  If  she  accepted  the  chal- 
lenge, she  caught  the  cap,  waving  her  handkerchief, 
the  corner  of  which  he  took  in  his  hand,  and  holding 
it  high  in  the  air,  the  two  wound  round  and  round 
each  other  and  round  the  circle.  The  couple  who 
longest  kept  the  ring  without  a  smile  or  word,  won 


Ip2  CASTLE    FOAM. 

the  badges,  that  were  proudly  worn  until  next  Har- 
vest Day. 

How  many  little  hearts  have  been  bent,  how  many 
broken,  how.  many  romances  begun,  how  many  love- 
knots  tied,  how  many  bitter  disappointments,  and  not 
a  word  spoken,  in  those  "  charmed  circles  "  on  harvest- 
days  ! 

In  the  distance  a  priest  was  walking,  with  the  in- 
evitable swing  of  the  priesthood,  toward  the  church, 
from  whose  tower  a  silvery  chime  began  to  mingle 
with  the  clear,  cool  evening  air  its  vesper  melody, 
calling  over  Schaumburg  that  the  sun  must  not  go 
down  upon  the  wrath  of  any  one  till  it  had  been  con- 
fessed in  the  Good  Lord's  sanctorum,  and  hallowed 
absolution  given  by  the  All  Holy  to  the  penitent. 

"  Life  of  life  from  Jesus'  hand, 
Light  from  out  the  Better  Land." 

It  softened  even  Albrecht  von  Bremen's  hard  heart 
for  an  instant,  but  he  had  too  important  business  on 
hand  for  it  to  remain  soft  long.  Indeed,  he  had  been 
rearranging  his  plans  a  little  to  admit  the  priest,  and 
had  found  that  after  all  he  could  be  exceedingly  use- 
ful if  won  over. 

"  Is  that  the  priest — er — er —  What  did  you  say  was 
the  name  of  him  ?  " 

"Baumgarten!  Baumgarten  !  No,  no  !  Charlovitz, 
that's  the  name  at  least,  and  that  is  the  man,  I  think. 
It  is  long  enough  for  him." 

"  H'm  —  then  perhaps  I'll  — er — er —  " 

"  Walk ! "  exploded  from  the  old  man's  lips,  who 
was  quite  in  the  habit  of  helping  the  Dane,  when  he 
could,  in  his  life-struggle  after  words. 


"WELL  DONE  ! '  193 

"Exactly  so,  my  lord,  exactly  so;"  and  suiting  his 
action,  the  Dane  dropped  from  the  coach  and  walked, 
while  the  count  was  driven  away. 

At  a  rapid  pace,  it  did  not  take  long  to  stand  upon 
the  shadow  of  the  square  black  cap,  when  the  Dane 
assumed  a  more  careless  attitude. 

The  priest  was  reading  half  aloud.  This  for  report, 
but  his  thoughts  were  wandering  from  the  dry  husks 
of  letters.  He  started  like  one  awaking  from  a 
dream  when  the  Dane  said,  "  This,  I  believe,  is  Father 
Charlovitz?  " 

"  I  am  a  priest,  sir,  and  my  name  is  Heinrich  Char- 
lovitz." 

"Very  good.  Count  von  Bremen,  at  your  service. 
May  I  speak  with  the  priest  without  encroaching  upon 
the  tenor  of  his  thoughts  ?  " 

"  So  your  speech  runs  as  his  thoughts  run  —  upon 
holy  things,"  the  priest  answered,  smiling. 

"  Upon  sad  things  at  least,  good  father,  which  are 
indeed  next  kin  to  holy  things." 

"  Though  hypocrites  are  of  a  sad  countenance." 

They  had  reached  the  church. 

"Must  you  turn  in,  good  father?  Come  this  side  a 
moment,  where  not  so  many  are  passing." 

Under  the  spreading  limbs  of  a  skeleton  tree,  whose 
glorious  midsummer  garments  lay  in  a  brown  drabble 
about  their  feet,  the  two  talked  together. 

It  was  a  hard  task  the  Dane  had  undertaken,  that 
of  reversing  the  will  of  a  strong  man  well  satisfied 
with  his  present  notions.  He  realized  this  thoroughly, 
for  almost  the  only  book  he  had  ever  studied,  and  he 
had  spent  his  life  in  study,  was  the  great  book  which 
God  wrote,  of  many  chapters,  and  every  one  of  them  a 
13 


194  CASTLE    FOAM. 

book,  —  beating,  throbbing,  living,  moving  chapters; 
a  book  whose  title  is  in  heaven,  whose  introductory 
thought  was  the  dust  of  the  earth  and  the  image  of 
God,  with  the  breath  of  life  breathed  into  it  when  the 
morning  stars  sang  together,  —  and  whose  conclusion 
shall  be  when  the  heavens  shall  be  rolled  up  as  a 
scroll,  and  the  earth,  with  its  dust  and  its  ashes,  be 
marked  with  a  great  "  FINIS." 

In  fact,  the  Dane  was  a  master-interpreter  of  human 
nature. 

"  You  may  judge  of  my  errand  yourself,"  he  said, 
"the  saddest  that  could  well  be  :  the  troubles  between 
the  lord  and  lady  of  Castle  Foam,  and  the  certainty 
that  the  prince,  as  illegitimate,  is  soon  to  be  thrust  into 
the  cushionless  street  to  make  room  for  the  rightful 
heir." 

"  Sir  count !  you  astound  me.  Is  it  possible  that  you 
speak,  and  that  I  hear  you  with  these  ears?  " 

"  I  fancy  so.  'Tis  ragged,  but  'tis  true  ;  true  as  this 
book  of  yours."  He  tapped  the  book  the  priest  had 
been  reading,  into  which  he  had  shut  his  middle 
finger. 

"Let  us  walk,"  said  the  priest,  "  the  very  trees  have 
ears." 

"  I  will  explain  to  you  briefly.  The  present  prince 
is  son  of  the  former  prince  by  an  actress,  '"hat  actress 
is  still  living,  and  living  in  Petersburg.  This  I  simply 
say,  to  prove  later.  She  could  not  rear  a  child.  The 
wife  of  the  prince  had  given  him  no  heir  in  ten  years 
of  marriage.  Women  are  strangely  wrought  upon  by 
their  legal  lords.  The  princess  consented  to  adopt  this 
child  in  a  secret  manner  that  should  result  in  her  claim- 
ing it  as  her  own,  before  it  was  two  months  old.  No 


"  WELL    DONE  ! "  195 

matter  what  our  preferences  may  be,  it  is  not  right 
that  he  should  hold  this  place." 

The  priest  shook  his  head.  "  But  think  of  the  down- 
fall of  the  most  saintly  princess,  who  in  soul  and  na- 
ture is  so  eminently  innocent."  Perhaps  he  was  think- 
ing of  the  five  thousand  rubles. 

"  Innocent,  yes  !     But  living  a  sad  life  to-day." 

"  I  have  feared  it,"  said  the  priest. 

This  was  all  the  Dane  could  have  asked.  He  had, 
wholly  without  knowledge,  made  the  statement  on  the 
ground  that  in  all  probability  neither  one  side  nor  the 
other  was  too  well  known  to  be  contradicted,  and  find- 
ing he  was  unexpectedly  upheld,  he  at  once  enlarged 
upon  the  first  statement. 

"  1  his  would  give  her  the  freedom  she  is  too  woman- 
ly to  seek,  granting  her  a  divorce,  and  when  once 
the  shock  was  over,  you  must  know  she  would  be 
vastly  happier  again  as  countess  on  the  estates  of 
Kramareff." 

"  But  she  would  take  the  prince  with  her." 

"Well  and  good,  if  she  could  be  happy  so,"  said  the 
Dane,  gathering  courage  and  hope  of  success  with 
each  new  question,  at  the  same  time  shaking  his  head; 
which  the  priest  might  take  as  he  chose,  but  which  in 
reality  meant  that  that  thing  would  never  be. 

"But  what  of  the  little  church?"  asked  the  priest. 
"The  house  of  Reppoun  is  strongly  German  and 
probably  Roman  Catholic." 

Von  Bremen  could  scarce  restrain  a  smile.  "Bravo  ! " 
he  said  to  himself.  "  The  noble  soul  begins  to  trem- 
ble. Self!  last,  mightiest  and  full  when  overcome." 
And  then  aloud,  "True,  good  father,  I  know  not  who 
the  successor  may  be.  I  am  but  acting  for  justice 


10.6  CASTLE    FOAM. 

under  the  instruction  of  an  agent  of  the  man  who 
claims  the  right.  But  as  there  are  certain  things  which 
one  in  your  position  can  do  to  make  such  a  change 
more  easily  and  quietly  accomplished,  because  the 
laborer  is  worthy  of  his  hire,  I  am  instructed  to  say 
to  you  that  justice  must  be  done,  and  that  it  will  b2 
done,  whether  you  and  I  act  for  or  against  it ;  but 
that  if  you  can,  and  some  suggestions  will  be  given 
you,  and  you  do  help  this  matter  through,  if,  at  the 
end,  you  are  not  satisfied  with  your  position,  you 
shall  be  granted  the  place  of  Patriarch  in  Syria,  chief 
priest  in  the  church  of  the  Holy  Sepulcher.  My 
power  to  make  this  offer  I  will  show  you  to  your 
full  satisfaction  before  a  step  is  taken  ;  and  also  that 
if  you  are  satisfied  to  remain,  the  sum  of  five  thousand 
rubles  will  be  paid  you  for  the  service."  The  priest 
started.  He  had  received  five  thousand  rubles  to 
place  the  countess's  daughter  there  ;  strange,  strange 
freak  that  he  should  now  be  offered  five  thousand 
rubles  to  turn  her  out  again  !  The  Dane  supposed 
the  start  was  because  his  sacred  nostrils  sniffed  the 
odor  of  a  bribe,  and  began  at  once  to  cover  it  with 
perfumed  oil,  lest  it  should  be  offensive. 

M  That  is  no  bribe,  good  father,  that  offers  to  him 
that  overcometh  a  crown  of  life.  An  evil-minded  man 
alone  would  charge  that  our  religion  is  selfishness, 
because  he  presses  toward  the  mark  with  greatest 
zeal  who  sees  most  clearly  the  prize  of  his  high  calling. 
You  may  consider  yourself  fortunate  that  you  may 
please  even  one  man  in  the  cause  of  duty.  It  is 
oftener  that  the  friend  of  God  goes  through  this  world 
friendless  than  full  of  friends." 


"  WELL    DONE  !  "  Ip7 

The  priest  almost  inaudibly  quoted  that  wretchedly 
distorted  Greek  requiem — 

"  '  Hosts  on  the  earth  and  hosts  below 

Follow  the  sinner's  shroud  with  their  laudations  loud, 

Down  to  the  wide  gate  where  many  do  go. 

Few  on  the  earth  follow  the  dead 

Up  to  the  narrow  gate  where  the  bright  angels  wait, 

Bearing  the  palm  branch  and  crown  for  his  head !  '  " 

"  Exactly  so,  good  father.  You  are  right.  Exactly 
so  !  And  I  remember  a  story,"  said  the  Dane,  "  of  one 
living  long  ago,  a  priest,  whose  meat  was  locust-bread, 
and  honey  from  the  wild  bees.  They  said,  'Beware 
of  him  i  He  has  a  devil.'  Another  priest  of  the 
same  order  coming  directly  after  him,  ate  and  drank 
with  those  people  like  one  of  themselves,  and  they 
said  of  him,  '  A  gluttonous  man  and  a  wine-bibber.' 
No,  father !  it  is  impossible  to  please.  We  must  per- 
form our  duty,  and  if  rewarded  instead  of  blasphemed 
we  are  fortunate." 

"  I  have  often  read  the  story,"  said  the  priest, 
smiling. 

"  Exactly  so,  good  father,  exactly  so  !  And  you 
comprehend  my  words  to-night?" 

A  bending,  tottering  cripple,  as  she  hobbled  past 
them  on  her  knotted  canes,  caught  the  sentence  K  You 
comprehend  my  words  to-night?"  and  strained  her 
old  ears  to  listen  further,  for  she  was  the  twilight 
raven  of  Schaumburg,  and  if  any  one  among  the 
women  had  a  bit  of  information  she  wished  to  spread 
through  the  village,  her  first  step  was  to  tell  Thurnelda 
and  make  her  promise  never  to  repeat  it.  But  the 
wind  rushed  through  the  leaves,  and  she  lost  the 
priest's  answer. 


198  CASTLE    FOAM. 

He  placed  his  reverend  finger  beside  his  reverend 
nose,  and  said  very  gravely,  "  I  comprehend  the 
count,  and  will  act  as  is  best  and  right."  He  put 
"  best "  first,  at  which  the  Dane  winked  to  his  inner 
man,  and  after  taking  his  leave  and  promising  to  see 
the  priest  again  in  a  day  or  two,  when  he  should  have 
thought  over  the  matter,  he  placed  his  irreverend  finger 
beside  his  irreverend  nose  and  said  to  himself,  "  There 
is  not  much  question  which  way  the  priest  will  think 
it  best  to  act.  These  sacerdotal  robes  turn  inside  out 
right  easily.  I  must  look  sharp  and  not  depend  too 
much,  however,  for  doubtless  they  turn  back  again  as 
easily;"  and  buttoning  his  coat  around  him,  for  the 
evening  coming  on  was  cold,  he  shuffled  away  through 
the  dry  leaves  toward  Castle  Foam,  whose  proud  dome 
and  turrets  loomed  grandly  toward  heaven  from  the 
hill  before  him,  the  four  tapering  minarets  rising  from 
the  main  tower  yet  tinged  with  the  dying  glory  of  the 
sun  that  had  left  the  valley  below  in  darkness. 

The  priest  made  no  move  to  enter  the  church,  though 
the  villagers  were  kneeling  in  many  places  about  the 
building,  waiting  for  the  evening  services. 

Father  Charlovitz  opened  his  book ;  but,  as  is  often 
the  case  with  the  priest's  Bible-reading,  the  words  he 
repeated  were  far  from  the  page  on  which  his  eyes 
rested. 

"  'A  good  name  is  rather  to  be  chosen  than  great  riches, 
And  loving  favor  rather  than  silver  and  gold.' 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this,  I  wonder?  Some 
mystery  underlies  it  which  I  must  solve  before  I  act. 
One  thing  at  least  I  swear :  Never  shall  word  or  act 


WELL    DONE 


I99 


of  mine  lead  to  your  injury,  Lady  Princess  von  Meer- 
schaum, so  help  me,  God  of  Love  !" 

He  closed  the  book,  and  entered  the  church,  not 
without  a  premonitory  twinge  or  two  of  conscience, 
and  an  inclination  to  hide  his  face  as  the  warm  light 
fell  over  it,  and  the  old  black-eyed  Thurnelda  seemed 
looking  him  through  and  through. 

Von  Bremen  found  his  way  to  the  castle.  Through 
the  glass  of  the  conservatory  he  saw  the  princess  by 
the  fountain.  He  entered  noiselessly  by  the  conserva- 
tory-door and  stood  behind  her.  He  was  unnerved 
after  his  struggle  with  the  priest,  an  easy  task  though 
it  may  have  appeared  to  the  looker-on,  and  was  nerv- 
ously ransacking  his  brain  for  the  most  politic  way  to 
announce  himself,  when  she  turned  suddenly  upon 
him,  exclaiming  : 

"  Good  heavens  !  Monsieur  von  Bremen,  how  came 
you  here?  I  did  not  look  for  such  an  apparition." 

To  say  the  least,  if  Albrecht  von  Bremen's  powers 
did  ever  become  weary,  they  were  never  exhausted. 
He  had  yet  to  find  a  time  when  action  could  be  re- 
quired of  him  when  he  could  not  act.  He  fell  instantly 
upon  one  knee,  and  clasping  his  hands,  said,  in  a 
voice  that  might  have  been  a  child's,  so  plaintive, 
pleading  for  mercy : 

"Yes,  my  Lady  Princess,  Albrecht  von  Bremen 
is  here,  —  an  unexpected,  undesired  apparition,  ab- 
horred, detested.  But  he  is  penitent,  and  supplicates 
your  mercy,  lady.  He  is  driven  by  a  relentless  agony 
to  bend  to  the  dust  before  your  feet  a  head  that  never 
yet  was  bowed  for  pardon.  Remorse,  the  ghost  of 
an  inordinate  passion  too  tamely  christened  'Love,' 


200  CASTLE    FOAM. 

has  dragged  him  here  to  ask  to  be  forgiven.  Oh,  I 
have  suffered  enough  !  Have  —  " 

Here  the  princess  interrupted  him.  Will  the  reader 
recall  the  position  of  the  wife  of  Prince  Reppoun? — her 
solitude  ;  her  regret  at  having  turned  away  the  friend- 
ship of  Constantine  Wolzonn  ;  her  longing  for  a  friend  ; 
her  query  if  indeed  she  might  not  win  her  husband's 
love  more  easily  had  she  other  admirers,  and  the 
fact  that  the  first  passions  of  her  girlish  heart  —  pas- 
sions that  perhaps  were  only  fancies,  though  she  had 
thought  them  love — had  been  stirred  by  Albrecht  von 
Bremen, — that  first  love  that  a  woman's  heart  never 
can  forget?  Will  he  also  remember  that  in  the  most 
romantic,  most  unsuspicious,  most  gentle  hour  of  all 
the  twenty-four,  this  man,  never  ill- looking  except  as 
he  looked  ill  of  his  own  will,  supplied  with  abundant 
beauty  of  a  certain  stamp  and  a  powerful  and  attrac- 
tive magnetism,  knelt  at  her  feet?  —  that  he  was  wise, 
and  spoke  slowly,  asking  no  answer  till  the  first  shock 
had  ample  time  to  wear  away,  before"  he  condemns 
her  as  feeble-hearted  or  a  fool?  —  that  she  silenced 
him  with  a  gesture  of  her  hand,  and  in  a  voice  that  was 
kind,  though  not  indeed  extravagantly  friendly,  said, 
"  You  have  made  far  too  much  of  it,  Monsieur  von 
Bremen.  For  aught  of  anger  I  have  ever  had,  I  can 
easily  say  'forgiven'"?  And  yet  she  asked  herself, 
half  doubtingly,  "Can  the  leopard  change  his  spots, 
or  the  Ethiopian  his  skin  ?  "  and  added,  "  or  was  I 
unjust  to  him  in  Switzerland?"  Time  had  deadened 
the  edge  of  the  anger  she  had  felt. 

There  are  conditions  under  which  oil  and  water 
will  flow  together.  These  were  fulfilled  in.  that  au- 
tumn evening  in  the  conservatory  of  Castle  Foam, 


WELL    DONE  !  2OI 

and  startled  by  the  transition,  the  princess  asked  her- 
self, "What  am  I  doing?"  But  it  was  already  done. 
The  Dane  had  pressed  his  lips  upon  the  extended 
hand,  and  risen  to  his  feet.  The  two  stood  for  a 
moment  face  to  face  in  the  silent  shadows,  while  the 
fountain  trickled  its  merry,  dripping  melody,  and  the 
flowers  around  them  swung  to  Eros  censers  of  ravish- 
ing perfume. 

"May  God  bless  you,  lady  • "  said  the  Dane  at  last ; 
"  and  may  I  have  opportunity  to  show  my  gratitude 
more  potently  than  in  words.  Can  I  serve  you  in  any 
way?" 

"Thanks,  Monsieur  von  Bremen,  —  no.  Yet,  if 
you  please,  you  may  stay  to  dinner  with  me,  and  let 
me  show  my  forgiveness  by  hospitality." 

"You  would  be  hospitable,  lady,  to  an  enemy. 
To-day  I  must  decline ;  but  to-morrow,  if  it  please 
your  ladyship." 

"  To-morrow  let  it  be,  at  this  hour,  Monsieur  von 
Bremen." 

He  bowed  to  leave  her ;  but  as  she  turned,  her  hair 
caught  upon  an  orange-tree.  That  over-prolific  hair 
was  a  source  of  annoyance  sometimes.  It  became 
more  snarled  as  she  attempted  to  free  it,  and  she  tore 
it  off,  breaking  a  leaf,  a  flower,  and  a  thorn  with  it. 

"  Tangles  never  come  out  for  me,"  she  said.  "  I 
could  fly  sometimes,  they  vex  me  so." 

"That  is  quite  unnecessary,"  observed  the  Dane. 
"Let  me  unravel  this." 

He  took  the  lock  in  his  hand  and  began  to  extri- 
cate the  leaf  and  flower,  when,  "Ha!"  he  dropped 
the  curl. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  asked  the  princess. 


202  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"  Nothing,  my  lady,  only  a  thorn,"  he  replied,  and 
finished  his  task. 

"  How  delightfully  patient  you  are  !  "  said  the  prin- 
cess with  a  faint  smile.  "You  would  be  an  invaluable 
friend  to  me.  I  am  forever  getting  into  tangles." 

The  Dane  had  worked  silently,  not  because  he  was 
patient,  but  because  he  was  superstitious,  and  was 
smothering  a  curse  that  "only  a  thorn"  hidden  in  my 
lady's  hair  had  driven  to  his  lips. 

He  dropped  the  thorn  on  the  floor,  or  intended  to, 
and  putting  his  foot  on  something  very  like  a  thorn, 
ground  the  curse  into  it.  Then  looking  up  with  the 
same  soft  smile,  he  asked,  "  Will  your  ladyship  give 
me  this  leaf  as  a  palm  of  victory?  " 

"  With  pleasure,  monsieur,  —  or  a  better." 

"  None  could  be  better,"  he  said,  making  a  low  bow 
and  kissing  her  hand  again.  "  And  now  until  to- 
morrow evening,  ch  &ten,  till  to-morrow  evening.  Au 
revotr,  my  lady,  Princess  von  Meerschaum." 

"Adieu,  monsieur." 

The  princess  turned  and  closed  a  window  by  the 
orange-tree.  The  wind  must  have  blown  it  open  a 
finger-breadth.  She  did  not  see  a  figure,  wrapped  in 
a  cloak  as  black  as  the  night  itself  had  already  be- 
come, creep  stealthily  away  from  the  window,  or  hear 
a  low  voice  mutter,  "Eh  bien,  to-morrow  evening,  eh 
bien  !  "  and  add,  "  There  appears  a  tangle  deeper  than 
thai  in  my  lady's  hair." 

Having  once  entered  upon  this  new  venture,  the 
novelty  pleased  the  princess  well ;  or,  more  properly, 
having  once  yielded  to  the  spell  of  the  Dane's  subtle 
magnetism,  it  was  easy  to  yield  more  and  more,  and 
already  she  enjoyed  the  thought  of  meeting  him  the 
next  evening. 


"  WELL    DONE  !  "  2O3 

As  for  the  Dane,  he  had  restrained  himself  till  out 
of  the  castle,  walking  down  the  long  road  through 
the  park  to  the  great  gate  on  the  highway,  where  the 
count's  coach  was  to  be  waiting  for  him.  There  his 
pace  quickened,  and  his  face  reverted  to  its  lines  and 
wrinkles  laid  by  innate  deceitfulness.  A  hard,  cold 
smile  broke  over  his  face,  as  he  hung  his  hands  by 
his  thumbs  in  the  pockets  of  his  pantaloons,  and  his 
head  well  upon  one  side,  and  his  eyes  half  closed 
themselves. 

He  threw  the  orange-leaf  on  the  walk ;  but  return- 
ing with  the  remark,  "  It  would  be  just  my  luck  to 
have  her  find  that  leaf  the  first  thing  in  the  morn- 
ing," he  calmly  hunted  for  it,  found  it,  dropped  it 
into  the  pocket  of  his  overcoat,  and  resumed  his 
rapid  pace.  The  carriage-door  stood  open.  For- 
getting the  dignity  of  his  years,  he  leaped  in,  and 
rolled  over  in  the  robes,  convulsed  with  laughter. 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  exclaimed,  "I've  done  it  at  last!" 
and  rubbed  his  hands.  "It's  a  new  idea  of  mine, 
and  it  works  like  a  charm.  Sugar  is  better  than 
salt.  'Head  'em  off'  is  better  than  run  on  behind. 
Dinner  to-morrow  night.  Bah  !  That  reminds  me 
of  the  ball  at  the  palace  later.  She's  going  of  course, 
and  I'm  going.  Never  mind  !  Better  not  offer  to  go 
with  her  ;  she  might  refuse.  f  Step  by  step,'  Albrecht. 
'  Step  by  step.'  Ah,  a  rich  character  is  that  priest 
Charlovitz  !  He  will  be  very  useful  if  he  be  useful 
at  all ;  and  not  much  in  the  way  if  he  be  not.  I  — • " 

He  stopped  suddenly,  for  "  only  a  thorn,"  which  had 
not  fallen  to  the  floor  but  caught  in  his  overcoat, 
stabbed  him  again  as  he  rubbed  his  hands  about  in 
self-congratulation. 


204  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"  Strange  omen  that,  for  the  second  time,''  he  said. 
M  Curse  the  blasted  thorn  ! "  and  he  began  looking 
for  it.  But  at  that  moment  the  coach  halted  in  Count 
Olendorff's  court;  halted  so  suddenly  that  he  was 
thrown  from  the  seat  down  among  the  robes,  and  in 
extricating  himself  he  quite  forgot  the  thorn. 

Unannounced,  he  opened  the  door  of  Count  Olen- 
dorff's  library.  But  the  old  man  was  wide  awake, 
and  in  no  mood  to  be  over-easily  provoked. 

"  Well,  well !  Here  you  are  at  last.  I  began  to 
think  that  Father  Baumgarten  —  " 

"Charlovitz,  my  lord." 

"Charlovitz,  yes,  Charlovitz.  Why  am  I  always 
mixing  an  orchard  and  a  rustic?" 

"  Very  little  difference,  on  the  whole,  my  lord,  very 
little  difference.  One  drops  the  fruit,  the  other  picks 
it  up.  Call  him  Baumgarten  if  you  choose." 

"  No  —  Charlovitz  —  Father  Charlovitz.  What  was 
I  saying  ?  " 

"  You  had  begun  to  think  that  Father  —  " 

"Yes,  yes,  I  remember.  lam  growing  old  —  so 
very  old ;  "  and  he  passed  his  wrinkled  hand  over  his 
wrinkled  forehead,  thought  of  the  two-and-eighty 
years  that  were  registered  there,  and  quite  forgot  to 
finish  his  sentence. 

"You  had  begun  to  think  that  Father  Charlovitz — " 

"  Had  converted  you,  and  you  were  waiting  to  be 
baptized,"  exclaimed  the  old  man  in  an  explosive 
way,  as  though  anxious  to  get  the  whole  sentence 
out  before  he  forgot  the  end  of  it.  Then  he  shook 
in  a  hoarse,  crabbed,  spasmodic  laugh,  and  Albrecht 
von  Bremen  smiled,  —  but  not  at  the  count's  joke. 

When  the  Dane's  coat,  hat,  and  gloves  were  thrown 


"  WELL    DONE  !  '  2O5 

into  the  corner,  and  he,  seated  in  the  arm-chair  which 
the  count  had  occupied,  because  it  was  the  best  and 
easiest  chair  in  the  room,  was  sipping  the  count's 
wine,  a  drop  of  good-natured  blood  touching  his 
heart  persuaded  him  to  say  what  he  had  to  say,  with- 
out waiting  longer. 

"My  lord!" 

"Hey?  "  said  the  old  man,  looking  up  from  a  glass 
he  was  filling. 

"Oh — er — nothing  in  particular,  nothing  in  par- 
ticular. Go  on  pouring  out  your  wine ;  I  was  only 
saying  that  I  had  seen  the  priest." 

"Priest  Charlovitz,  of  Meerschaum?  " 

"  Priest  Charlovitz,  of  Meerschaum." 

"I  suppose  so,  yes.     And  what  came  of  it?  " 

"  I  told  him  of  our  plans." 

"Not  all  at  once?" 

"  No,  not  all  at  once ;  but  about  as  fast  as  I  could 
talk  and  he  could  listen." 

"  And  what  said  the  priest?  " 

"  That  he  would  not  hinder  them." 

"Possible?" 

"  Possible,  and  more.     He  will  take  part  in  them." 

"  The  devil  he  will !  " 

"  Yes ;  and  the  devil  and  he  together  will  make  a 
strong  team,  my  lord." 

"Great  Jove  !     With  him  you  can  do  anything." 

"With  whom,  my  lord,  —  the  devil,  the  priest,  or 
great  Jove  ?  " 

"  Fie  !  fie  !     This  is  no  laughing  matter." 

"  Your  lordship  is  correct.  Let  us  chant  a  psalm 
together  to  solemnize  ourselves." 

"  Be  gone  !     But  how  about  the  princess?     Lovely 


206  CASTLE    FOAM. 

woman  !  Is  there  no  way  she  can  be  kept  on  the 
estates,  something  like  the  serfs,  when  the  prince  is 
turned  away  ?  " 

"  Have  courage,  my  lord,  you  shall  marry  her  yet. 
Or  I  will  for  you,"  he  added,  in  a  tone  so  low  that  the 
old  ears  heard  nothing. 

"  Good  Albrecht !  good  Albrecht !  Bring  it  about ! 
bring  it  about,  and  you  shall  be  well  rewarded." 

"I  have  succeeded  so  far  as  this,  my  lord,"  said 
Albrecht  von  Bremen,  searching  the  pile  in  the  corner 
for  the  pocket  that  contained  the  leaf.  w  Look  here ! 
HA  !  "  Laying  down  the  overcoat  again,  only  a  thorn 
pricked  his  finger.  "  A  cursed  omen  that,  for  the  third 
time  !  When  I  speak  with  the  princess  it  stabs  me,  when 
I  think  of  the  priest  it  stabs  me,  when  I  talk  with  the 
count  it  stabs  me  again.  Into  the  fire,  damned  thorn  !" 
and  into  the  fire  it  went.  Only  a  blue  flutter  in  the 
flame  for  an  instant  and  it  was  gone  forever,  yet 
Albrecht  von  Bremen  had  feared  it  as  though  it  were 
a  god. 

"  What  did  you  say  you  had?  "  the  old  man  asked. 

"Oh — er — yes,  I  remember  ;  this:  A  leaf !  Em- 
blem of — er — well,  of  fidelity,  or  something  else, 
placed  there  by  the  princess's  own  fingers." 

The  old  man  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Be  careful 
you  don't  tamper  with  her  heart,  Albrecht !  Leave 
that  for  me  to  do." 

"Jealous  already,"  said  the  Dane.  "But  what  do 
you  think  of  it  all?" 

"It  was  well  done,"  said  Count  Olendorff. 


MY    WIFE.  207 


CHAPTER    V. 

MY  WIFE. 

EARLY  the  next  morning  Father  Charlovitz  was 
in  his  little  study,  built  like  a  dove's  cote,  under 
the  low  eaves  in  the  rear  of  the  little  church,  sitting 
by  a  small  round  table,  wandering  through  the  ar- 
chives dc  rcsprit. 

Beside  the  table,  two  chairs,  a  small  library,  one 
little  window,  a  little  corner  closet  for  wine  and  bis- 
cuit and  gowns,  and  a  little  hearth  for  fire,  made,  on 
the  whole,  a  very  respectable  study. 

A  bright  fire  had  crackled  and  blazed  on  the  hearth 
when  he  sat  down,  but  long  ago  only  lines  of  white 
ashes,  rounded  like  the  sticks,  showed  how  they  had 
lain  across  each  other,  and  far  down  in  the  middle  of 
the  ash-coats  faint  glimmers  of  red  appeared,  as  a 
chance  draught  swept  up  chimney. 

The  sunbeams  did  away  with  the  need  of  a  fire,  and 
poured  through  the  little  window  in  a  way  to  indicate 
high  noon  in  the  village. 

Books  lay  open  on  the  table ;  paper,  pen  and  ink 
beside  them  ;  but  the  paper  was  covered  with  hiero- 
glyphics, a,nd  the  books  were  unread. 

The  determination  to  write  seized  the  good  father. 
Sermons  were  just  coming  into  vogue  in  the  most 
civilized  of  the  churches,  and  such  original  men  as 


2O8  CASTLE    FOAM. 

Father  Charlovitz  were  well  pleased  with  it.  He 
wiped  his  pen  carefully  upon  a  pincushion,  where 
many  blots  and  blurs  told  a  sad  story  of  unparliamen- 
tary usefulness,  and  began  upon  a  sermon  ;  the  same 
sermon  that  he  began  to  write  six  hours  before  on  the 
hieroglyphic  sheet. 

For  fifteen  minutes  the  scratch  and  scrawl  of  a  busy 
pen  filled  the  little  room  with  noise,  that  seemed  like 
a  cannonading  to  the  priest.  Then  all  was  still  again, 
and  the  pen  was  diving  deep  into  a  crack  in  the  table. 

A  rap  sounded  on  the  little  door. 

The  priest  frowned. 

"  What  unnecessary  interruption  is  this,  I  wonder?  " 
he  asked  himself  as  he  opened  the  door. 

A  farmer  from  some  distance  out  of  the  village 
wanted  this  representative  of  the  Great  Shepherd  to 
look  at  a  little  lamb  of  the  flock  that  lay  dying. 

"We've  not  much  money,"  said  the  farmer,  apolo- 
getically. 

Father  Charlovitz  had  a  kind  heart,  and  answered 
as  gently  as  a  woman,  "Then  I  shall  come  for  little. 
I  will  be  there  sharp  at  three  o'clock." 

He  shut  the  door,  and  again  began  to  write.  An- 
other rap  and  another  frown,  which  disappeared,  how- 
ever, when  he  opened  the  door  and  found  a  girl  of 
about  eighteen  asking  admittance. 

"Come  in,  little  Marie,"  he  said,  smiling;  "I  have 
looked  for  you." 

She  crossed  herself,  left  her  wooden  shoes  at  the 
door.  Her  little  feet  were  as  brown  as  the  sun  could 
burn  them,  and  clean  as  water  could  wash  them,  and 
treading  daintily  the  polished  floor,  she  took  a  long 
basket  from  her  shoulders,  leaning  it  against  the  wall 


MY    WIFE.  209 

as  a  gentleman  would  have  done  with  his  cane.  Then 
she  made  another  courtesy,  crossed  herself  again,  and 
sat  down  on  a  stool  the  priest  had  placed  before  the 
fire  for  her.  Way  down  in  the  depths  of  that  long 
basket  there  was  a  baby  snugly  rolled  away. 

"Mother  said  I  shouldn't  come,"  the  girl  began, 
"  and  that  I'd  no  business  to  be  running  to  your  Rever- 
ence so  much.  But  I  knew  he'd  be  there  for  the 
money  before  night,  so  when  she  sent  me  out  with 
the  baby  to  work  in  the  garden,  I  just  left  the  hoe  and 
ran  away." 

There  was  not  a  child  in  Schaumburg  afraid  to 
empty  her  entire  little  heart  to  Father  Charlovitz. 
He  smiled  and  replied,  "  It  is  a  dangerous  thing  to 
disobey  your  mother,  little  Marie,  but  more  danger- 
ous to  disobey  your  priest.  I  told  you  to  come  yes- 
terday." 

"  And  so  I  did,"  the  girl  replied  quickly,  not  at  all 
frightened  by  the  rebuke  ;  "  but  as  I  crossed  the 
bridge,  down  by  the  park,  a  great  man's  coach  stopped 
right  in  front  of  me,  and  one  man  got  out  and  ran  till 
he  caught  up  with  you  ;  so  I  didn't  come  any  more." 

Heinrich  Charlovitz  bent  his  head  unnecessarily 
low  over  the  fire  as  he  put  the  fresh  sticks  on,  for  the 
child  was  looking  at  him,  and  young  eyes  see  more 
than  older  ones  sometimes. 

He  asked  carelessly,  "And  how  of  the  others  in  the 
coach?" 

"There  was  only  one,  good  father,  an  old  man 
with  very  white  hair  and  a  white  beard  on  his  upper 
lip  ;  and  the  coach  turned  round,  and  he  was  driven 
away." 

The  priest  began  to  blow  the  fire.  "  Count  Olen- 
H 


2IO  CASTLE    FOAM. 

dorff,"  he  muttered.  "  There's  no  good  comes  when 
he  's  a  finger  in.  I  had  suspected  that  '  Eh  bien,  till 
to-morrow  evening,'  which  now  means  to-night." 

He  went  hastily  to  the  corner-closet,  and  took  out 
the  purse  which  the  princess  had  given  him. 

"  Here  is  the  money  to  pay  your  rent,  Marie,"  he 
said.  "You  may  take  enough  to  pay  it  for  a  year. 
It  is  from  our  good  lady.  You  must  pray  for  her, 
Marie." 

"  Indeed,  good  father,  wre  always  do.  Mother  says 
we  are  never  to  forget,  as  it  is  about  all  we  can  do  for 
them  at  the  castle,  who  are  so  kind  to  us." 

"  That  is  good  teaching,  Marie  ;  and  God  will  bless 
you  and  them  too  for  your  prayers.  He,  up  there  in  the 
bright  blue  sky,  is  no  respecter  of  persons,  and  thinks 
as  much  of  the  prayers  little  Marie  prays  at  the  altar, 
as  the  great  lady  at  the  castle  thinks  of  those  beau- 
tiful pearls  she  wore  on  her  wedding-day.  Do  you 
remember  it,  so  long  ago?" 

"  Indeed  I  do,  good  father.  Mother  took  me  up  to 
the  castle  with  the  rest.  Will  the  angels  in  heaven 
be  so  beautiful  and  wear  such  pearls?"  asked  the 
girl,  as  she  shouldered  the  basket  and  baby. 

"Just  as  fine,  Marie.  You,  too,  if  you  are  honest 
and  true." 

Marie  went  away  firmly  resolved  to  be  honest  and 
true,  and  the  priest  turned  to  his  table,  but  not  to  his 
writing. 

"What  an  inordinate  tangle  things  are  in!"  he  said, 
a  moment  later.  "  That  little  man  would  be  an  inval- 
uable friend  to  me  just  now.  How  easily  he  could 
unravel  it."  Heinrich  Charlovitz  smiled.  "  He  prom- 
ised me  I  should  go  to  Jerusalem,  and  be  chief  of  the 


MY    WIFE.  211 

Greek  priests  there.  That  is  something;  and  what 
else  will  come  with  it?  Plenty  of  honor?  Yes  ;  no 
equals  in  my  own  creed.  Plenty  of  luxury.  Plenty 
of  ease.  Plenty  of  servants.  Plenty  of  solitude. 
Plenty  of  worship,  all  day  and  every  day,  close  by 
the  Holy  Sepulcher,  or  where  fanatic  pilgrims  think 
it  ought  to  be.  Plenty  of  holy  companions."  His 
lips  curved  a  little,  as  who  should  say,  "not  the  best 
company  after  all,  in  some  cases."  Then  he  shrugged 
his  shoulders  and  arched  his  eyebrows,  and  added, 
"  Plenty  of  pricks  from  my  conscience,  too,  I  am 
much  inclined  to  fear." 

Slowly,  very  slowly  in  fact,  he  repeated  the  Wise 
Man's  words  : 

"By  humility  and  the  fear  of  the  Lord 
Are  riches  and  honor  and  life. 
Thorns  and  snares  are  in  the  way  of  the  froward. 
He  that  keepeth  his  soul  shall  be  far  from  them." 

It  was  a  doubtful  warfare  between  the  flesh  and  the 
spirit,  and  was  far  from  ended  when  night  had  come 
again,  and  the  castle  was  but  a  dim,  dark  dream 
against  the  sky.  The  linden  grove,  that  shaded  the 
conservatory  in  summer  and  shielded  it  in  winter, 
was  but  a  shadow,  a  shade  darker  than  the  clouds, 
and  the  lake  just  beyond  it  a  sheet  of  jetty  black, 
broken  only  by  an  occasional  reflection,  when  now 
and  then  a  star  shimmered,  white  or  yellow,  through 
the  clouds,  or  a  silver  lining  tipped  one  of  the  heavy 
drifts  as  it  swept  beneath  the  moon. 

Father  Charlovitz  crouched  in  a  corner  where  the 
conservatory  joined  the  castle,  wrapped  from  head 
to  foot  in  a  thick  fur  cloak,  the  cowl  drawn  over 
the  square  black  cap. 


212  CASTLE    FOAM. 

He  had  forced  a  window  open  a  crack  and  fastened 
it,  close  beside  a  table  that  had  been  arranged  inside, 
with  preparations  for  tea. 

"  This,"  said  he,  as  he  fastened  the  window,  "  is 
the  only  perfect  confessional,  no  matter  how  honest 
the  one  who  kneels  may  be." 

His  patience  was  almost  spent.  "  Dinner  is  lasting 
long,"  he  said.  "'And  there  was  much  eating  and 
hard  drinking  among  the  sons  and  the  daughters 
after  Irad  and  Mehujeal,  before  the  son  of  Lamech 
the  cursed  floated  over  their  bodies  in  the  ark.'  But 
why  should  I  think  of  that  to-night?  I  am  conjur- 
ing up  omens,  when  in  faith  I  would  eat  a  little  and 
drink  a  little  myself,  if  I  had  the  opportunity." 

Suddenly,  as  his  eyes  were  growing  dull  and  his 
ears  heavy,  they  were  startled  from  their  lethargy  by 
the  voice  of  the  princess,  as,  with  that  haughty  air 
which  so  well  became  the  lady  of  Castle  Foam,  she 
entered  the  conservatory.  Costly  ermine  clung  to 
almost  invisible  gauze  about  her  shoulders,  by  its 
contrast  adding  beauty,  and  in  its  purity  seeming  like 
floating  frost  about  her  figure.  Diamonds  sparkled 
on  her  neck,  and  shot  many-hued  and  brilliant  darts 
from  her  matchless  wrists  and  fingers.  A  smile,  such 
as  had  rarely  graced  her  face  in  the  ten  years,  made 
dazzling  the  beauty  of  her  dark,  soft  eyes.  Close 
behind  her,  smiling  and  blinking,  walked  the  Dane. 

The  priest  had  crept  to  the  open  window.  He 
shook  his  head  decidedly  as  he  watched  the  two, 
muttering,  "Lady,  lady!  Holy  things  are  not  for 
dogs,  nor  pearls  for  swine.  They  will  trample  them 
under  foot  and  turn  again  and  rend  you." 

Well  had  Albrecht  von  Bremen  played  his  cards 


MY    WIFE.  213 

in  this  short  game.  He  played  in -right  good  earnest. 
He  played  to  win.  It  was  the  last  game  of  three. 
The  first  he  had  lost  when  reaching  to  gather  in  the 
stakes.  The  second  was  a  bad  game  for  him  from 
the  first.  And  the  third  !  He  must  win  the  third,  for 
he  had  good  cause  to  fear  that  the  wrath  of  Reppoun 
would  keep  him,  if  possible,  out  of  the  estates  of  Kra- 
marefF,  and  it  would  be  possible  unless  the  princess 
were  won  before.  He  had  no  fear,  however,  of  the 
prince  ever  reaping  a  personal  advantage  from  his 
wife's  property,  for  he  had  looked  well  to  that,  and 
found,  far  back  in  the  first  covenant  between  the 
crown  and  KramarefF,  that  the  title  and  gold  should 
be  forfeited  to  the  next  in  line,  if  an  heir  Von  Kra- 
mareff  married  one  not  noble-born. 

"  How  have  you  spent  your  time  since  we  parted 
so  unhappily?"  asked  the  princess. 

"  Chiefly  in  remorse." 

"  Then  we  will  drop  the  past." 

"  Yes,  my  lady,  and  think  of  the  present.  Such 
joy  after  such  sorrow  is  heaven  supplementing  hell. 
You  laugh  !  You  will  not  realize'.  But  you  have 
not  known  the  pang,  how  could  you  know  the 
pleasure?" 

"But  how  long  will  it  last,  think  you?  I  gave  you 
once  my  little  heart.  You  threw  it  way,  '  all  for  the 
love  of  me,'  you  tell  me  now.  Then  you  asked  me 
for  it  again,  and  because  I  would  not  give  it  back, 
you  were  angry.  This  time  you  ask  forgiveness,  and 
I  have  forgiven.  How  long  —  " 

"Forever,"  the  Dane  interrupted  her.  "All  the 
stock  of  ingratitude  and  rage  are  spent,  and  only 
penitence  remains." 


214  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"We  shall  see.     I  grant  you  a  trial." 

"  A  happy  probation  !  "  exclaimed  the  Dane.  "  If 
by  a  thought  I  forfeit  your  favor,  may  Nemesis  be 
your  friend  !  " 

"Woman  needs  no  friend,  monsieur,  to  urge  her  to 
vengeance." 

"  Well  said,  my  lady !  Woman's  vengeance  is 
enough  alone ;  her  smile  is  heaven  in  itself  !  " 

"You  are  very  happy,  monsieur." 

"By  you  made  happy,  my  lady." 

"Then  I  am  happy  that  it  is  so." 

"And,  my  lady  princess,  if  there  should  ever  be  a 
time  when  an  act  of  Albrecht  von  Bremen's  could 
make  you  happier,  com — " 

"A  very  faithful  friend  I  doubtless  should  find." 

" — Wanting  !"  What  was  it  whispered  "wanting"? 
Was  it  a  fancy?  It  sounded  very  real.  It  made  her 
shudder.  Or  was  it  only  a  chill  draught  from  the  window 
beside  her,  that  she  discovered  was  open  a  crack? 

She  turned  to  close  the  window.  It  stubbornly  re- 
fused. The  Dane  tried,  and  failed.  She  said  it  was 
of  no  consequence,  and  he  sat  down  again. 

"  I  have  something  to  tell  you,"  said  the  Dane. 

"What  is  it?" 

"  You  will  not  believe  it." 

"I  will,  if  you  speak  truly." 

"  How  will  you  know  if  I  speak  truly  ?  " 

"I  shall  see  it  in  your  eyes." 

Their  eyes  met.  What  was  more  natural?  The 
Dane  knew  well  the  magnetic  power  of  his  two  eyes. 
The  princess  felt  it ;  she  had  felt  it  before.  She 
shuddered ;  she  felt  herself  absorbed  —  her  strength 
drawn  out  of  her,  her  will  bound  and  thrown  one 


MY    WIFE.  215 

side.  She  was  conquered  ;  and  yet  she  was  happy  — 
strangely,  fearfully  happy.  She  smiled  ;  she  laughed. 
The  Dane  was  satisfied. 

"  Before  I  tell  you,"  said  he,  "  give  me  a  token  that 
you  will  not  be  angry." 

"What  shall  it  be?" 

"A  flower,  lady." 

"  This  one  ?  "  She  touched  an  exquisite  bud  fastened 
to  her  brooch.  The  Dane  knelt  at  her  feet  in  assent. 

She  broke  the  stem  and  placed  the  flower  in  his 
buttonhole.  He  clasped  her  hand  in  his  and  kissed 
it  passionately.  She  smiled  again. 

Still  kneeling,  one  hand  resting  in  hers  in  her  lap, 
his  eyes  fastened  upon  hers,  and  becoming  momenta- 
rily more  powerful,  he  began  : 

"My  lady  princess,  it  was  not  all  for  the  love  I 
bore  you,  not  all  a  selfish  interest,  that  drove  me  to 
speak  as  I  did  in  this  room  eleven  years  ago.  I  did 
it  for  your  good.  I  knew  that  you  were  destined  to 
be  the  wife  of  Victor  Reppoun  if  you  consented.  For 
your  sake  I  tried  to  stop  it.  Now  you  are  angry," 
he  said,  slowly  rising,  without  taking  his  eyes  from 
hers. 

"  No,  monsieur,  I  am  not  angry ;  and  yet  your 
words  are  cruel." 

"They  are  not,  lady.  You  do  not  understand. 
These  years  may  have  been  Paradise  to  you.  I  know 
nothing  of  them.  The  future  I  feared  for  you  has 
been  long  delayed.  It  has  only  been  within  my 
power  to  watch,  and,  little  as  you  have  thought  it,  I 
have  been  watching  like  a  hound  upon  your  door- 
steps. I  have  come  at  last,  braved  the  danger  of 


2l6  CASTLE    FOAM. 

being  spurned  by  you  an/i  driven  as  a  rogue  away, 
to  warn  you  that  a  terrible  future  is  very  near." 

She  shuddered.  His  words  were  having  the  right 
effect.  She  murmured  : 

"What  is  it?" 

"  This,"  he  continued  :  "  Do  you  know  that  by  royal 
grant  the  estates  Von  Kramareff  are  forfeited  by  the 
heir  who  marries  one  not  of  noble  birth?" 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

"And  you  have  done  it." 

She  would  have  sprung  to  her  feet  —  have  anni- 
hilated the  man  before  her  —  torn  him  in  shreds  — 
in  a  burst  of  sudden  rage  that  overwhelmed  her ;  but 
those  two  strange  eyes  held  her  firmer  than  fetters  to 
her  chair. 

"  Stay  !  "  he  continued.  M  You  have  promised  that 
you  will  not  be  angry.  You  must  not  be  till  I  have 
finished.  In  Switzerland  you  spurned  me  as  a  '  mis- 
erable pauper.'  That  I  was  not  quite,  for  I  am  noble- 
born  ;  and  had  you  married  me,  as  I  would  have  been 
your  slave  and  footstool  for  )rour  life  to  have  you  do, 
your  titles  and  estates  would  always  have  been  yours. 
Instead  of  this,  you  married  Victor  Reppoun,  who  is 
within  a  month  to  be  a  miserable  pauper." 

The  princess  did  not  even  strive,  by  look,  or  word, 
or  motion,  to  count  this  an  insult.  She  sat  utterly 
powerless,  her  eyes  riveted  upon  those  of  the  Dane ; 
and  his  thumbs  crept  into  the  pockets  of  his  panta- 
loons, and  his  head  hung  well  upon  one  side,  and  his 
eyes  half  closed  themselves,  as  he  stood  for  a  moment 
in  silence. 

When  he  spoke  again  it  was  in  such  a  soft,  gentle 
tone  that  it  seemed  almost  choked  with  tears  : 


MY    WIFE.  2iy 

"  He  is  an  illegitimate  child,  and  not  the  legal  heir 
to  Meerschaum.  Unfortunately,  the  next  in  line  has 
long  known  it,  —  long  been  searching  for  proof  to 
justify  his  claim.  I  learned  but  yesterday  that  he  had 
armed  himself  till  he  was  satisfied.  Victor  Reppoun 
will  be  driven  from  Meerschaum.  If  you  retain  your 
allegiance  you  will  be  exiled  from  Kramareff.  From 
this  royal  position  you  have  held  for  ten  years  you 
will  become  the  wife  of  a  beggar  that  cannot  buy  his 
daily  bread  except  it  be  by  the  sweat  of  the  brow. 
Now,  lady  princess,  Albrecht  von  Bremen  has  not 
loved  you  against  so  much  without  a  strong  heart  to 
love.  He  loves  you  still.  In  less  than  a  month  the 
prince  will  fall.  If  you  will  be  the  wife  of  Albrecht 
von  Bremen  then,  renouncing  those  other  vows  as 
taken  in  ignorance,  you  may  retain  your  name  and 
station  in  society.  Once  more  I  ask  you,  will  you  be 
my  wife?  I  give  you  time  to  think  ;  I  ask  no  answer 
till  you  are  ready  to  answer  me." 

His  card  was  played,  his  venture  run.  His  eyes 
fell.  He  sat  down  by  the  table  opposite  her  chair. 
The  spell  was  broken. 

There  was  no  furious  madness  now,  no  glaring  and 
gnashing  of  teeth.  She  rose  to  her  feet  with  all  the 
dignity  of  the  wife  of  Prince  Reppoun. 

She  spoke  slowly :  "  Monsieur  von  Bremen,  I  am 
ready  to  answer  you  now.  Once,  twice,  three  times, 
/  tell  you  No  !  This  is  a  change  I  have  been  long- 
ing for.  I  hail  it  with  a  cry  of  joy.  At  last  I  will  be 
such  a  wife  as  Victor  Reppoun  shall  honor  with  his 
love,  whom  he  can  no  longer  pay  with  luxuries.  My 
brow  shall  sweat  with  his,  and  together  we  will  earn 
our  daily  bread." 


2l8  CASTLE    FOAM. 

She  seemed  to  wait  for  an  answer.  Strangely,  the 
Dane  had  listened  as  though  he  had  expected  just  that 
reply.  He  even  smiled  when  he  supplied  the  silence, 
sayinp,  "  My  noble  lady  will  not  forget  her  promise 
not  to  be  angry  with  the  unfortunate  Dane?" 

"  I  am  not  angry,  Monsieur  von  Bremen,"  she  re- 
plied, softened  perceptibly  by  this  unexpected  plea. 
"  I  can  offer  you  no  reward  for  your  kindness,  if  I  am 
to  be  a  pauper,  but  I  can  thank  you,  and  I  do ;  and 
you  may  ever  remember  that  a  pauper's  prayers,  which 
are  as  potent  as  the  prayers  of  a  princess,  will  be 
offered  for  your  safety  in  return  for  the  anxiety  you 
have  had  for  mine." 

The  Dane  was  visibly  puzzled  by  this,  but  he  left 
Castle  Foam  as  calmly  as  he  came,  actually  saying  to 
himself,  as  he  was  driven  through  the  great  portals  on 
the  highway,  "  The  Princess  von  Meerschaum  is  more 
mine  than  she  thinks  herself." 


MY   WIFE. 


219 


CHAPTER    VI. 

MY  WIFE   (CONTINUED). 

WHILE  the  conversation  of  the  last  chapter  was 
going  on  within  the  conservatory,  what  of  the 
priest  outside?  He  had  not  hoard  the  last  of  the  mat- 
ter. The  princess's  reply  had  been  spoken  to  a  con- 
fessional without  a  confessor.  Why?  Chiefly  and 
obviously  because  he  did  not  belong  there.  Indeed 
he  had  received  a  very  feeling  conviction  of  that  fact 
in  the  course  of  the  evening,  and  had  changed  his 
mind  upon  more  subjects  than  one. 

As  the  conversation  had  grown  interesting  he  had 
given  closer  and  closer  attention  to  it.  He  had  be- 
come so  excited,  in  fact,  that  his  anger  had  once  run 
away  with  him.  He  had  added  to  an  expression  of 
the  princess  the  significant  word  M  wanting,"  and 
added  it  so  loud  that  it  had  almost  closed  up  his  con- 
fessional. 

He  did  not  notice  when  the  wind  blew  fiercely  round 
the  corner  into  his  hiding-place,  nor  when  for  a  mo- 
ment it  died  away,  and  the  moon  shone  cold  and  clear 
over  the  castle  and  lawn  and  lake.  But  the  wind 
blew,  and  occasionally  the  moon  shone,  nevertheless. 

He  had  not  heard  the  wheels  of  a  caleche  roll  over 
the  cold  ground  and  stop  at  the  castle,  but  they  rolled 
and  they  stopped,  and  the  Prince  Reppoun  alighted. 


22O  CASTLE    FOAM. 

His  face  was  pale,  his  step  was  slower  than  usual, 
but  without  calling  a  servant  he  hurried  up  a  private 
staircase  from  a  side  door  where  he  had  entered,  and 
seen  by  no  one  was  in  his  own  apartments.  He  changed 
his  traveling  suit  for  evening  dress.  He  had  not  even 
taken  off  his  clothes,  with  the  exception  of  one  night 
at  Arantha,  since  leaving  the  castle.  Then  with  a 
sigh  he  threw  himself  upon  a  divan,  and  lit  a  cigarette. 

"And  now,"  he  said,  "  Cartaphilus,  the  Wandering 
Jew,  comes  back  again.  Comes  back  another  man  !  " 
He  registered  the  vow  with  a  firm  planting  of  his  hand 
on  a  marble  table  beside  him.  "  It  has  dawned  upon 
me,  late  to  be  sure,  but  better  late  than  never,  that  I 
have  not  suffered  alone,  but  have  been  making  a 
martyr  of  my  wife.  She  has  been  strangely  true  to 
me.  How  have  I  rewarded  her?  True,  I  have  not 
been  false  to  her,  yet  I  have  not  been  true.  She  has 
been  everything  the  heart  of  man  could  ask  to  me.  I 
have  been  nothing,  absolutely  nothing,  but  what  the 
law  requires  to  her.  Now  for  reformation !  As  I 
have  worshiped  a  fantastic  ideal  in  Kathi  Chich- 
kini," — he  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  shuddered,  for 
he  had  not  yet  forgotten  the  pang  which  those  words 
had  caused  him,  "daughter  of  a  Russian  nobleman," — 
w  I  will  worship  the  loveliness  represented  in  my  wife. 
I  will  live  for  her  only,  as  she  is  living  for  me  alone. 
I  will  find  her  and  surprise  her.  If  she  smile  a  wel- 
come it  is  my  omen  of  success." 

He  threw  the  cigarette  away,  and  at  the  foot  of  the 
broad  staircase  asked  a  page,  who  knelt  and  touched 
the  floor  with  his  forehead  to  welcome  his  master, 
"  Where  is  the  princess  ?  " 

The  boy  was  slow  to  rise.     Servants  know  every- 


MY    WIFE.  221 

thing.  It  had  spread  like  wild-fire  through  the  castle, 
in  spite  of  every  precaution,  that  the  mistress,  their 
sainted,  perfect  mistress,  had  a  lover.  But  the  boy 
must  answer,  and  with  his  head  still  bowed,  he  stam- 
mered, "  In  the  conservatory,  master." 

The  prince  turned  his  steps  toward  the  winter  gar- 
den. At  the  door  of  the  corridor  leading  thither  an 
older  servant  bowed  to  the  floor,  but  rising  quickly, 
laid  his  hand  upon  the  latch. 

"  Not  that  way,  not  that  way,  master,"  hardly  know- 
ing what  he  said.  "Did  your  Highness  wish  to  see 
the  lady  princess?  Let  me  call  her." 

"And  why  not  go  myself  ?  "  asked  the  prince,  puz- 
zled by  the  behavior,  for  it  was  not  the  custom  at 
Castle  Foam  to  make  suggestions  to  the  lord  of  the 
house. 

"  She  has  —  she  has  —  " 

"Has  what?" 

w  A  friend,  master." 

The  servant  fell  on  his  knees  again.     The  prince 
did  not  notice  him,  but  walked  slowly  away.     Turn- 
ing, as  he  lit  a  cigarette,  he  said,  "  I  am  tired,  I  am  . 
going  to  my  room.     Do  not  disturb  her,  I  will  see  her 
in  the  morning." 

Ten  minutes  later,  protected  by  high  boots,  a  fur 
pelisse,  and  Zibelline  cap,  he  left  a  side  door  of  the 
castle  and  approached  the  conservatory,  upon  the  op- 
posite side  of  which  knelt  the  priest  Charlovitz. 

"A  fire  from  hell  consumes  me!"  he  muttered. 
"Am  I  gone  mad  to  be  thus  willingly  degraded  to  a 
damnable  eavesdropper?  Not  I!  I  will  turn  back. 
Yet  something  infernal  drives  me  on.  She  is  not  false 
to  me  —  nav ;  but  I  must  see  it,  and  believe." 


222  CASTLE    FOAM. 

Again  he  approached  the  conservatory.  At  first  he 
saw  but  faintly  two  shadows  through  the  leaves.  But 
nearer,  and  the  whole  picture  was  before  him,  only 
hidden  in  part  by  Venus  rising  from  her  shell. 

He  shaded  his  eyes  and  peered  through  the  window, 
as  she  laughed  till  her  sunlight  hair  trembled  over 
her  shoulders,  and  the  ermine  on  the  gauze  seemed 
floating  like  a  cloud  about  her,  while  the  smile  made 
perfect  the  beauty  of  those  dark,  soft  eyes,  and  the 
diamonds  flashed  upon  her  neck  and  matchless  wrists 
and  fingers.  She  was  looking  into  the  eyes  of  a  stran- 
ger, and  the  stranger,  with  his  back  toward  the  prince, 
was  evidently  looking  into  hers. 

"  Good  God  in  heaven  !  "  burst  from  the  trembling 
lips  that  were  very  near  the  glass.  "  She  never 
smiled  on  me  like  that !  She  never  looked  so  beauti- 
ful for  me,  or  I  too  should  have  loved  her  long  ago." 

Did  the  princess  know  that  that  smile  won  for  her 
the  victory  she  had  shed  so  many  bitter  tears  to  win  ? 

"Great  heaven!  and  what  now?"  gasped  the 
prince,  staggering  on  his  feet,  as  she  touched  a  bud 
hanging  upon  her  brooch,  and  the  man  before  her 
knelt  at  her  feet.  "  How  long,  how  long  has  this 
been  going  on,  and  I,  blind  fool,  have  laughed  at  it? 
And  now  !  she  takes  a  flower  from  her  bosom  and 
gives  it  him !  Oh  ye  immortal  gods,  see  how  he 
kisses  her,  and  how  she  smiles  ! " 

He  brushed  away  the  moisture  on  the  pane  that  had 
gathered  from  his  breath,  but  not  satisfied  with  the 
imperfect  picture,  staggered  and  stumbled,  groping 
his  way  about  the  conservatory. 

"  How  have  I  been  duped  !  "  he  groaned.  "  Great 
God,  how  have  I  been  consummately  defrauded ! 


MY    WIFE.  223 

My  wife  !  damned  name  !  Cursed  may  I  be  that  I 
have  ever  called  her  that !  Aye,  and  I  have  been 
cursed  for  it." 

He  had  gained  the  side  upon  which  the  priest  knelt, 
but  the  priest  had  neither  eyes  nor  ears  for  anything 
without.  The  frosty  air  as  he  turned  the  corner 
fanned  from  his  forehead  great  drops  of  perspiration, 
and  cooled  the  blood  in  the  swollen,  throbbing  veins. 
But  only  the  trees  saw,  and  a  lonely  night-hawk 
screamed  an  unmelodious  note  of  sympathy. 

"Who  is  he?  Who  is  he?  I  have  seen  that  man 
before,"  he  muttered  eagerly  as  he  crept  nearer.  He 
was  kneeling  before  the  princess  now,  clasping  her 
hand  in  his.  Then  he  rose  slowly  to  his  feet. 

"She  looks  her  very  life  out  of  her  eyes  to  him. 
Ah,  she  must  love  him  tenderly,"  said  the  prince,  as 
he  still  crept  nearer.  Then  asked  himself  again, 
"Who  is  he?" 

As  if  all  unconsciously  moved  to  answer  the  ques- 
tion, the  man  paused  in  what  he  was  saying,  and  hung 
his  hands  by  his  thumbs  in  the  pockets  of  his  panta- 
loons, and  his  head  well  upon  one  side,  and  his  eyes, 
still  fastened  on  those  of  the  princess,  half  closed 
themselves. 

"Ha!"  groaned  the  prince,  stopping  spellbound 
where  he  stood.  "You  knew  the  prince,  my  father? 
Yes  !  and  because  I  have  not  given  you  that  golden 
quieter  you  asked,  for  some  accursed  lie  you  con- 
jured up,  oh  !  God-forsaken  villain  !  you  have  kept 
your  threat  and  are  drawing  your  thirty  pounds  a 
month  in  this  way  out  of  Meerschaum  !  And  she, 
Lady  of  Castle  Foam,  is  amour  ing  -with  a  devil!  I 
will  go  back,  I  will  see  no  more.  Go  on  with  your  — " 


224  CASTLE    FOAM. 

He  was  suddenly  silenced  by  a  motion  in  a  black 
mass  close  by  the  window. 

"What!  what!"  he  gasped,  "another  eavesdrop- 
per prying  into  the  secrecies  of  Castle  Foam?  Such 
secrecies ! "  He  ground  his  teeth  and  silently  ap- 
proached the  figure. 

A  moment  later,  all  his  gathered  rage  centering  in 
the  grip,  he  had  the  figure  by  the  throat,  the  body 
under  one  strong  arm,  and  with  it  entered  the  linden 
grove  at  rapid  strides. 

The  priest  Charlovitz,  choking  so  suddenly,  be- 
came bewildered.  He  struggled  to  escape ;  it  was 
useless.  He  tried  to  shout;  it  was  equally  in  vain. 
Had  the  devil  got  him  and  started  off,  body  and  soul, 
fur  cloak  and  all?  He  was  inclined  to  think  so.  And 
yet  it  occurred  to  him  even  in  that  strait,  that  the 
smell  of  burning  fur  would  be  an  unwelcome  efflu- 
vium for  even  Beelzebub's  nostrils.  Still  he  was 
not  on  his  way  to  heaven,  he  felt  sure  of  that,  and 
he  was  evidently  on  his  way  somewhere.  He  threw 
every  ounce  of  faith  into  a  silent  prayer  for  mercy. 
He  would  have  run  the  chance  of  the  devil  and 
crossed  himself,  but  he  could  not  move  a  hand.  He 
gulped  a  breath  and  howled  "  Murder  !  "  but  before 
the  word  was  half  spoken  the  fingers  tightened  about 
his  throat,  and  it  ended  in  a  faint  whistle. 

His  eyes  started  from  their  sockets  as  though  they 
were  ready  to  leave  him,  if  they  might  thereby  open 
a  vent  channel  to  his  lungs. 

The  fur  cowl  was  drawn  close  over  the  priest's 
head,  and  the  prince  had  not  taken  the  trouble  to  look 
under  it,  so  that  entirely  ignorant  of  what  bones 
and  flesh  he  might  have  under  his  arm,  he  threw  the 


MY    WIFE.  225 

burden  at  last,  face  down,  upon  the  ground,  still  hold- 
ing it  fast  by  the  throat. 

Second  thought  came  half-way  to  the  rescue  of 
the  priest.  The  prince  had  had  a  moment  to  con- 
sider. He  had  no  right  to  wipe  out  all  of  his  anger 
on  this  being;  he  even  let  his  cloak  still  cover  him, 
lest  he  should  hurt  him  more  than  he  intended,  and 
forthwith  administered  a  sounder  thrashing  than  even 
he  supposed  the  man  deserved. 

The  second  thought  had  crept  a  little  into  the  back- 
ground again  as  the  thrashing  went  on  and  the  prince 
became  excited  in  the  work,  till  at  last,  exhausted 
but  unsatisfied,  he  loosed  his  hand  from  about  the 
neck,  and  yielded  to  the  temptation  to  strike  one  blow 
with  his  open  hand  upon  the  cowl,  near  where  his 
victim's  ear  must  be.  And  the  blow  fell  heavily 
enough,  for  the  prince  was  such  a  man  of  strength  as 
seldom  is  found  in  a  castle.  Lurid  meteors  flashed 
and  floated  about  Father  Charlovitz  for  an  instant, 
then  all  was  dark  and  he  seemed  falling,  falling  with 
frightful  rapidity  into  blackness.  Insensibly  he  sprang 
to  save  himself.  The  effort  threw  him  upon  his  back. 
Faintly  the  moonlight  fell  over  his  insensible  face. 
The  prince  stood  erect,  folded  his  arms,  and  looked  at 
him  in  blank  astonishment. 

"Of  all  men  of  St.  Petersburg,"  said  he  at  length, 
"the  last  man  I  should  have  looked  for  there  was 
Father  Charlovitz.  I  hope  I  have  not  killed  the 
priest." 

He  was  too  thoroughly  broken  up  in  mind  and  body 
to  care  seriously  whether  he  had  or  not,  and  leaving 
the  matter  to  chance,  he  walked  slowly  to  the  castle 
and  locked  himself  into  his  library. 
15 


226  CASTLE    FOAM. 

A  finger  of  fire  had  been  writing  on  the  wall  of 
Babylon's  sanctum.  Were  the  words  in  the  indicative 
mode  and  perfect  tense,  or  was  there  yet  an  oppor- 
tunity, a  possible  potential  ? 

It  was  surely  very  late.  Day,  year,  and  life  were 
waning.  The  clock  struck  ten.  Hoarfrost  had  gath- 
ered on  the  track.  Silver  threaded  Prince  Victor's 
chestnut  hair.  Was  it  too  late? 

Heinrich  Charlovitz  had  come  to  his  senses  just  in 
time  to  hear  the  last  hope  of  the  prince,  to  realize  who 
it  was  that  had  given  him  the  pounding,  and  that  he 
was  left  with  that  heartless  wish  to  die  or  recover,  as 
the  case  might  be.  Very  slowly  he  gathered  in  one 
limb  after  another,  testing  each  carefully  to  find  that 
no  bones  were  broken ;  then,  with  many  a  twinge  and 
groan  gaining  his  feet,  he  answered  the  object  that 
was  then  far  away  entering  the  castle  : 

"  No,  no,  my  lord,  you  have  not  killed  the  priest ; 
and  as  I  live,  Prince  Victor  von  Meerschaum,  you 
shall  yet  smart  for  every  blow  that  you  have  given 
me,  until  you  learn  that  Heinrich  Charlovitz's  will  is 
as  powerful  to  do  vengeance  as  that  strong  arm  of 
yours  1 " 

Having  delivered  himself  of  this  saintly  indigna- 
tion, he  began  to  rub  his  forehead,  which  was  now 
aching  furiously,  and  to  hobble  down  toward  quiet 
little  Schaumburg  with  its  rushing  little  river. 

Possibly  Father  Charlovitz  was  a  man  whose  name 
was  registered  in  the  high  courts  above  as  "  good," 
for  he  had  at  least  lived  by  the  law  and  the  gospel 
from  his  youth  up,  and  never  transgressed  in  any 
way  one  of  the  Ten  Commandments.  He  had  made 
a  great  sacrifice,  too,  leaving  father,  mother,  home, 


MY    WIFE.  227 

wealth,  and  comparative  luxury,  to  enter  the  service 
of  the  Church.  But,  after  all,  it  takes  the  fire  to  try ; 
and  fire  tried  Father  Charlovitz  hotter  and  hotter,  till 
a  time  came  when  the  pure  gold  was  found. 

Hitherto  his  path,  though  taken  as  a  cross,  had 
been  shaded  with  palm-trees  and  bordered  with  flow- 
ers. In  long  years  of  unmarred  intimacy  he  had 
begun  to  consider  himself  wholly  an  equal  with  the 
Prince  Reppoun  ;  now  he  suddenly  discovered  that 
the  prince  thought  differently.  He  came  upon  a  bed 
of  thorns  in  his  world  of  flowers,  not  only  on  this  side 
and  the  other,  but  right  in  the  middle.  Should  he 
peacefully  walk  through  them,  or  rebel?  Such  words 
as  "  Give  him  thy  coat,"  and  "  Turn  again  the  other 
also,"  were  not  in  the  book  as  he  read  it  to  himself. 

As  he  reached  the  door  of  his  little  home  he  turned 
and  looked  at  the  sky,  where  clouds  were  piling  up 
thicker  and  heavier  under  the  moon.  He  pressed 
his  hand  on  his  throbbing  temple ;  it  appeared  to  be 
swelling.  He  gave  as  the  result  of  his  investigation, 
either  weatherwise  or  heartwise,  "A  storm  is  brew- 
ing." 


228  CASTLE    FOAM. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

MY   HUSBAND. 

THE  same  evening  found  General  Wolzonn  sitting 
in  the  cosy  library  of  the  Frau  von  Ockel. 

He  had  sat  up  all  night,  the  night  before,  ponder- 
ing, silently  pondering.  The  night-wind  had  howled 
at  his  window ;  and,  like  Tousa,  who  accounted  the 
dripping  of  water  over  the  rocks  of  her  cave  as  de- 
mons mocking  her,  he  thought  he  heard  in  the  wild 
notes  of  the  wind  fiendish  whisperings  and  unearthly 
laughing. 

"  Ha,  ha  !  "  it  cried,  "  you're  lost !  now  you're  lost ! 
What  a  fool  you  have  been  !  But  not  a  straw  care  I 
for  that,  nor  does  any  one  else,  you  murderer !  Look 
out  for  yourself !  There's  a  place  all  ready  and  wait- 
ing for  you  in  that  Seventh  Circle  of  boiling  blood 
guarded  by  Charon  and  the  Centaurs  !  That's  where 
they  take  such  murderers  as  you,  and  give  them  Sibe- 
ria for  a  half-way  house  !  " 

Then  the  wind  died  away  with  a  whip  and  a  whirr, 
and  a  farewell  shout  of  "  Murderer  !  yes,  murderer  !  " 
and  morning  came. 

With  the  earliest  daylight  Constantine  Wolzonn 
wrote  out  his  resignation,  and  putting  on  his  cloak 
and  most  unostentatious  hat,  hurried  through  back- 
ways  and  by-ways  to  the  rear  entrance  of  the  council- 


MY    HUSBAND.  229 

chamber.  Hardly  a  soul  was  abroad  at  that  early  hour, 
but  from  the  few  whom  he  met  he  ohrank  as  from 
enemies.  Every  one  seemed  watching  him,  and  say- 
ing over  and  over,  as  he  passed  them,  "  Murder,  mur- 
derer, murder."  For,  surely,  if  the  Princess  von  Meer- 
schaum knew  of  it,  many  others  must.  What  peril  he 
had  lived  in  !  For  how  long,  he  had  no  idea ;  but 
the  last  straw  had  broken  the  camel's  back.  He  had 
faced  the  danger  for  thirty  years  ;  now  he  had  turned 
to  run,  and  having  turned,  it  seemed  impossible  for 
him  to  run  fast  enough.  The  hou'seman,  who  had 
charge  of  the  chambers,  came  only  half  dressed  to 
open  the  door.  Rubbing  his  sleepy  eyes,  he  pulled 
it  open  just  a  crack,  and  looked  out,  muttering  some- 
thing about  "midnight  and  daylight,"  and  "running 
enough  to  murder  a  man." 

The  officer  started  !  another  accuser,  that  was  all ; 
and  having  delivered  the  paper,  he  hurried  away. 
As  he  was  diving  through  a  yet  dusky  alley,  a  voice 
accosted  him. 

"Ah — er — yes,  General  Wolzonn,"  it  said. 

"Von  Bremen,"  he  hissed,  without  lifting  his  eyes. 
"Just  the  man  I  was  looking  for." 

"  H'm,"  replied  the  Dane;  "and  where  were  you 
looking?" 

"Everywhere." 

"Yes,  I  see,  I  have — er — just  come  from  there." 

Once  within  his  own  apartments  with  the  Dane,  the 
officer  shut  the  door  with  a  sigh  of  relief  that  said, 
"That  shall  not  open  again  till  things  are  changed  ;" 
and  he  remembered  how  Albrecht  von  Bremen  had 
bound  him  there  in  that  same  room  five-and-twenty 
years  before ;  how  he  had  made  of  him  a  knave,  that 


23O  CASTLE    FOAM. 

was  worse  even  than  a  murderer,  to  cover  up  the 
crime,  and  how,  in  every  year  since  then,  he  had  lain 
beneath  his  heel,  peacefully  enduring  and  doing  every- 
thing required  of  him  to  pacify  the  man  who  knew  his 
secret,  and  how  he  had  just  discovered  that  he  had 
simply  been  betrayed. 

"  There,  sir !  "  he  said,  striking  his  sword-scabbard 
on  the  floor,  feeling  the  shackels  bursting,  and  him- 
self a  man  for  the  first  time  since  he  had  worn  a  beard. 

"  H'm  —  where  ?  "  inquired  the  Dane. 

"Right  here,1  said  the  officer  fiercely.  "Villain, 
you  have  been  false  to  me  :  you  have  told  my  secret. 
Henceforth  I  have  done  with  you.  Do  what  you 
choose  with  all  you  know  of  me.  Fling  it  on  the 
winds,  write  it  on  the  clouds.  Shout  it  from  any  win- 
dow there,  I  will  not  stop  you.  You  !  more  treacher- 
ous than  the  Friar  Alberigo,  at  last  I  do  defy  you  ! " 

The  officer,  growing  more  excited  as  he  went  on, 
almost  howled  his  defiance ;  while  one  of  the  secrets 
of  Albrecht  von  Bremen's  power  lay  in  the  fact  that 
never  in  his  long  life  had  he  been  known  to  be  excited, 
never  to  speak  a  word  in  haste,  never  to  say  two 
words  when  he  was  angry,  if  one  would  do.  He  ap- 
peared now,  as  upon  every  crisis  of  his  life,  as  though 
he  had  expected  just  this,  and  was,  on  the  whole, 
rather  happy  to  hear  it. 

"Have  you — er — have  you  finished?"  he  asked, 
in  a  quiet,  careless  way. 

"  Finished,"  said  the  general,  with  profound  dignity, 
and  yet  a  sense  that  after  all  his  importance,  freedom 
and  manhood  were  oozing  out  of  him. 

"And  thought  well  of  the  results?" 


MY   HUSBAND.  231 

"I  have."  The  officer's  pride  went  up  a  notch. 
He  was  standing  the  catechism  well  so  far. 

"  Of  your  commission  ?  " 

"  It  is  resigned." 

A  smile  played  about  the  eyes  of  the  Dane.  Why 
was  it  that  it  suddenly  appeared  to  the  officer  as  an 
act  of  absurd  cowardice,  this  running  to  the  council 
with  his  resignation?  His  self-importance  dropped 
way  down.  He  was  not  so  much  a  man  as  he  thought 
for. 

"  H'm  —  " 

The  general  still  stood  with  his  back  by  the  door, 
but  as  the  Dane  thus  began,  a  strange  knocking  at 
the  knees  caused  him  to  look  about  for  a  chair.  The 
Dane  went  on  :  "  Now  that  I  have  listened  to  you, 
suppose  you  — er — er —  " 

"  Pray,  sir,  proceed,"  said  the  officer,  trying  to  stop 
the  leak  with  a  little  bravado. 

"  So  I  will,  yes  — er —  I  will  take  your  position, 
and  without  ceremony  say :  Do  what  you  will  with 
my  secret.  Toss  it  to  the  winds.  Borrow  Gabriel's 
trumpet  and  howl  it  round  the  world.  What  harm 
will  it  do  me?  I  did  not  steal  her.  ¥ou  stole  her. 
Why  did  you  not  have  a  man  who  deserted  your 
division  arrested  and  shot,  instead  of  supporting  him 
in  Poland?" 

The  drowning  man  saw  a  straw  floating  past  him. 
He  grasped  it. 

"  But  I  will  bring  the  girl  back,"  he  exclaimed, 
desperately.  "I  will  repair  the  damage  I  have  done, 
come  what  may  of  it,  and  I  will  have  the  satisfaction 
at  least  of  knowing  that  I  have  ruined  your  plans  in 
exchange  for  the  ruin  you  have  laid  on  me." 


232  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"  Not  so  fast,  general."  The  Dane  was  smiling, 
much  as  if  he  were  watching  a  baby  flogging  a  rock- 
ing-horse that  was  a  little  unruly.  "  What  would  you 
do  with  the  girl  if  you  brought  her  back  ?  You've  not 
the  first  idea  of  who  she  is." 

"The  daughter  of  a  Russian  nobleman,"  exclaimed 
the  officer,  still  clinging  to  the  straw. 

"Ah — so  she  is!  Somewhere  between  Crimea 
and  Lapland,  unless  I  lied  to  you,  and  a  corpse  at 
that,  may  be  ;  and,  more  than  that,  were  she  intelli- 
gently standing  upon  the  tomb  of  her  father,  and  you 
with  drawn  sword  by  her  side,  I  have  no  plans  to  be 
hurt  thereby;  and,  more  than  that,  you  might  search 
for  her  till  your  bones  were  dust  and  not  find  her. 
You  have  not  been  over-faithful  with  my  charge 
either.  But  I  make  no  complaint.  You  think  she  is 
still  at  Arantha,  but  when  I  relieved  you  of  the  burden 
of  supporting  her,  I  also  relieved  the  miller  of  his  care. 
I  do  not  like  to  trust  deserters,  and  at  this  moment  she 
is  mother  of — er — er —  well,  of  a  son  or  daughter,  as 
the  case  may  be,  some  nine  years  old  and  more,  liv- 
ing far  away  from  Arantha.  Now  what  do  you  pro- 
pose to  do  ?  " 

The  general  was  silent.     What  could  he  do? 

"  There  is  nothing  left  me,  as  I  see,  but  to  take  my- 
self away,  to  some  spot  where  I  can  live  at  peace." 
He  was  a  fool  to  say  that,  and  he  knew  it  before  the 
words  were  more  than  spoken ;  but  that  was  the  time 
he  always  discovered  that  he  had  been  a  fool. 

"You  may  go,"  said  the  Dane  quietly,  "but  before 
you  go  there  is  something  I  should  be — er — er — yes, 
very  much  obliged  to  you  if  you  will  do  for  me." 


MY    HUSBAND.  233 

"  I  refuse,"  said  the  officer,  doggedly  planting  his 
back  against  the  door  again. 

The  Dane  did  not  appear  to  have  heard  him,  though 
the  officer  spoke  over-loud.  He  went  on  as  quietly 
as  though  he  had  not  been  interrupted  :  "  There  is  a 
superannuated  actress  living  in  miserable  quarters  in 
Petersburg.  Here  is  her  address.  She  is  a  good 
woman  and  deserves  better  quarters.  I  want  her 
established  in  elegant  apartments.  This,  if  you — er — 
if  you  please,  you  will  see  to  before  you  go,  and  give 
me  the  location  of  the  apartments  you  select,  or  when 
you  go,  it  will  of  course  be  to  Siberia.  You  are  a 
murderer,  an  abducter,  a  harborer  of  deserters  from 
the  Russian  army.  That  is  a  bad  record  for  a  man 
who  has  lived  for  thirty  years  upon  the  government. 
But  I  must  be  going.  I  have  made  a  longer  call 
than  was  necessary." 

Albrecht  von  Bremen  rose  quietly  as  he  spoke  and 
walked  directly  toward  the  door  barred  by  the  back 
of  a  man  reputedly  one  of  the  bravest  officers  in  the 
Russian  army,  armed  to  the  teeth,  and  impregnated 
through  and  through  with  the  bitterest  hatred  for  him. 
The  officer  moved  from  the  door  and  let  him  pass. 
He  knew  he  would. 

When  his  master  was  gone,  Constantine  Wolzonn 
threw  himself  down  by  the  table.  There  lay  the 
address  on  a  small  piece  of  paper.  He  took  it  sav- 
agely, crushed  it  in  his  hand,  and  had  almost  thrown 
it  in  the  fire,  when  he  waited. 

"I  might  as  well  go  to  Siberia,"  he  said;  but  he 
did  not  believe  it.  Freedom  was  sweet,  even  though 
it  were  freedom  to  exile  one's  self  from  his  country, 
instead  of  being  driven  into  exile.  "  I've  paid  a 


234  CASTLE    FOAM. 

dearer  price  than  this,"  he  said,  "  for  less  of  liberty." 
The  result  of  it  all  was,  that  he  did  precisely  as  Alb- 
recht  von  Bremen  expected  he  would  do.  The 
dilapidated  actress  was  placed  in  such  quarters  as 
answered  the  brief  directions,  and  the  address  sent 
to  the  Dane,  when  Constantine  Wolzonn,  nothing  but 
a  miserable,  cowardly  cat's-paw  after  all,  in  his  own 
estimation  at  least,  sat  in  Frau  von  Ockel's  library. 

The  Dane  had  gained  his  point,  and  might  have 
been  satisfied ;  but  he  was  not  fully  satisfied. 

"  So  Wolzonn  is  going  away,"  he  said,  "  and  Char- 
lovitz  must  take  his  place.  But  I  do  not  like  Charlo- 
vitz.  He  is  not  to  be  depended  on.  Curse  it  all ! 
This  telling  about  the  murder  comes  from  Olendorff. 
Were  it  not  for  that  little  estate  of  his  he's  willed  to 
me,  I'd  grind  the  old  man  in  the  dust  for  his  foolish- 
ness. But  Israel  is  full  of  years  and  blind.  Let  him 
die  in  peace." 

The  Dane  stopped  before  a  toy-shop  window,  to 
watch  the  curious  working  of  a  toy,  gotten  up  by 
some  distorted  mind  to  tickle  the  fancy  of  wonder- 
loving  children.  A  cat,  worked  by  machinery  that 
was  wound  up  like  a  clock,  spent  the  day  in  leaping 
after  a  mouse  that,  worked  by  the  same  machinery, 
passed  the  day  running  out  of  one  hole  and  into  the 
other,  just  before  the  cat  reached  it.  He  stood  before 
that  cat  till  one  would  have  thought  its  mechanism 
would  have  lost  all  wonder,  even  to  a  child.  He 
saw,  however,  not  a  cat,  but  Albrecht  von  Bremen 
leaping  after  expectations. 

"  H'm  !  Yes,  that  is  I,"  came  hissing  from  between 
his  teeth;  "driven  by  a  spring  men  call  ambition. 
Jumping,  jumping,  jumping,  for  three-and-fifty  years, 


MY    HUSBAND.  235 

and  I  never  yet  did  anything  but  load  my  shoulders 
with  sin  and  curses,  and  cheat  a  few  such  fools  as 
OlendorfF  for  bread  to  eat,  and  clothes  to  wear,  from 
one  day  till  the  next.  And  by-and-by  when  I  run 
down,  then  I  must  stop.  No  one  will  wind  me  up 
again.  There  she  goes!  Catch  him  !  "  he  hissed; 
but  the  cat  was  just  too  late. 

"  And  so  it  will  be  with  you  and  me,  on  to  the  end 
of  the  chapter,"  thought  the  Dane  ;•  and  he  walked 
away  with  a  heavy  heart,  though  his  face  showed 
none  of  it  when  he  met  the  Princess  von  Meerschaum 
at  dinner. 

"  But  your  turn  to  suffer  will  come  some  day," 
thought  General  Wolzonn ;  and  he  wished  it  might 
come  soon.  He  was  frowning  savagely  at  the  fire, 
when  the  Frau  von  Ockel  came  into  the  library.  She 
was  a  German,  widow  of  a  Russian  officer,  who  had 
foughtshoulder  to  shoulder  with  Constantine  Wolzonn. 
Every  one  called  her  "  frau,"  with  much  the  same 
pleasure  which  .we  in  America  take  in  calling  a 
Frenchman  "  monsieur ;  "  and  every  one  loved  Frau 
von  Ockel. 

"  Ah  !  if  our  souls  but  poise  and  swing 
Like  the  compass  in  its  brazen  ring, 
Ever  level,  ever  true, 
To  the  toil  and  task  we  have  to  do, 
We  shall  sail  securely,  and  safely  reach 
The  Fortunate  Isle  and  the  shining  beach." 

So  sailed  the  widow  of  Colonel  von  Ockel.  It  grew 
visibly  brighter  in  the  library  as  she  entered,  and  the 
frown  on  the  officer's  forehead  insensibly  decreased. 
He  had  dined  with  her.  They  had  long  been  friends  ; 
she  was  every  one's  friend,  especially  when  there  was 


236  CASTLE    FOAM. 

any  heart  aching  or  bodily  suffering,  or  anything  par- 
ticularly happy  going  on.  Then,  as  for  General  Wol- 
zonn,  he  had  also  been  her  husband's  best  friend  for 
years,  so  that  of  all  others  he  was  always  welcome. 
He  had  come  to  tell  her  he  was  going  away,  but 
could  not  gather  courage. 

"General  Wolzonn,  I  protest!"  she  exclaimed. 
"You  are  not  in  the  field  to-day,  and  that  look  is  too 
savage  for  even  your  quarters  at  the  citadel."  Then, 
with  a  merry  laugh,  she  fanned  the  fire.  She  was 
not  too  proud  to  do  anything  useful,  this  amiable, 
many  thought  angelic,  woman  ;  but  from  morning  till 
night  she  was  moving  about  with  a  kind  word  and 
a  smile,  and  a  loving  turn  of  her  hand  for  every  one 
that  needed  help.  Rich  or  poor,  it  was  quite  the 
same  to  her.  Hard  work  or  easy,  she  sacrificed  any- 
thing and  often  everything  for  others ;  and  all  in  that 
happy  way  that  made  the  receiver  doubt  if  it  were 
really  any  sacrifice  at  all.  Every  one  knew  Frau  von 
Ockel,  from  the  great  Tzar  downward  and  the  poor 
beggar  upward ;  yes,  they  all  loved  her.  Every  one 
confessed  to  her.  She  knew  more  secrets  than  any 
priest,  and  had  true-hearted  sympathy  and  advice,  if 
not  absolution. 

Very  few  ever  spent  the  hours  as  she  spent  many, 
among  the  poor  and  the  lowly,  without  being  uninten- 
tionally set  one  side  by  the  high-headed  nobility  as  a 
sort  of  half  nun  incapable  of  anything  but  insipid 
goodness.  Of  her  they  only  laughed  and  said,  "  The 
frau  is  trying  to  bind  up  as  many  wounds  as  her 
valiant  husband  made." 

She  was,  indeed,  incapable  of  anything  but  good- 
ness, but  that  person  was  yet  to  be  found  so  haughty 


MY    HUSBAND.  237 

as  not  to  recognize  Frau  von  Ockel  with  a  smile  at 
any  time,  and  who  did  not  agree  with  all  who  knew 
her  that  she  was  one  of  the  sweetest,  pleasantest, 
and  best  little  women  in  the  land. 

"It  was  Lady  Shahovska  who  called,"  she  contin- 
ued ;  "  she's  quite  talked  me  into  going  to  the  ball  at 
the  palace  to-night.  I  take  back  all  that  I  said 
about  staying  at  home,  and  3rou  must  go  with  me." 

The  officer  at  first  rebelled ;  he  had  no  thought  or 
desire  to  go  to  such  a  place,  and  besides  that,  he  had 
been  so  unfortunate  as  to  arrange  everything  and  pre- 
pare himself  to  leave  Russia  forever  early  the  next 
morning.  He  was  anxious  to  get  off  before  the  Dane 
had  time  to  ask  any  .more  favors  of  him.  He  had 
enough  yet  to  do  at  his  quarters  to  prevent  him  from 
spending  the  night  at  the  palace  ;  yet  the  thought  pre- 
sented itself  that  the  princess  his  cousin  would  be  there, 
and  the  hope  of  seeing  her  face  just  once  more,  seeing 
it  enlivened  by  the  surroundings  of  a  banquet,  if  not 
happy,  aided  Frau  von  Ockel  to  victory.  It  never 
occurred  to  him  that  it  was  not  till  entering  the 
library,  and  finding  him  so  low-spirited,  she  had  sup- 
posed herself  able  to  go. 

He  sought  in  vain  for  the  princess,  however, 
through  every  room  opened  to  the  guests.  It  was  an 
unheard-of  thing  for  her  to  be  absent,  but  evidently 
she  was  not  there.  He  was  leaning  against  the  wall, 
in  a  vacant,  dimly-lighted  side  chamber,  when  Frau 
von  Ockel,  passing  through,  discovered  him. 

"  Well,  well !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  why  must  I  always 
find  you  in  the  most  out-of-the-way  corner  of  every- 
thing? Come,  tell  me,  what  are  you  doing  out  here 
alone?  " 


238  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"Ah,  my  dear  Lady  von  Ockel ! "  said  the  general, 
thanking  good  fortune  for  this  golden  opportunity  to 
ask  a  word  of  advice  from  one  whom  every  one  trust- 
ed, "  I  am  in  a  very  sad  state  of  mind  ;  will  you  help 
me  out  of  it?" 

"I  will  try  and  see,"  she  replied.  "Come,  here 
are  just  two  chairs  in  the  entire  room." 

"  No,  no,  my  lady.  What  I  will  say  shall  not  re- 
quire two  minutes.  Come  stand  by  this  window ;  it 
is  cooler.  And  no  one  must  hear  me,"  he  added, 
looking  anxiously  about  the  room. 

"  Men  are  fools  !  "  said  Frau  von  Ockel,  laughing. 
"  People  do  not  frequent  a  room  like  this  at  one  of  the 
palace  balls." 

They  stood  by  the  window.  It  was  a  low,  French 
window,  and  heavily  curtained.  It  opened  upon  a 
low  balcony. 

There  Constantine  Wolzonn  told  his  story,  so 
guarded  that  none  but  himself  should  be  known  by 
name  and  criminated. 

"  I  could  not  help  speaking  to  her  as  I  did,"  said 
he,  "  for  I  knew  well  she  was  unhappy,  and  with  the 
very  best  of  reasons,  too.  Eleven  years  ago  her 
husband  met  at  Arantha,  in  Poland,  a  beautiful  peas- 
ant girl.  Beautiful,  lady,  beyond  description  is  Kathi 
Chichkini.  No  wonder  he  loved  her  ;  one  could  hard- 
ly help  it.  He  even  went  twice  in  one  summer  to 
Poland  to  see  her.  She  is  now  the  mother  of  a  child. 
It  made  me  very  angry,  for  the  lady  of  whom  I  speak 
I  loved  even  as  a  little  girl,  when  I  ran  and  caught 
her  butterflies  and  picked  her  flowers.  I  have  always 
loved  her  since,  not  as  one  loved  to  marry,  but  as 
one  loves  to  care  for  and  protect.  Until  yesterday, 


MY    HUSBAND.  239 

we  have  lived  our  lives-long  on  terms  of  the  warmest 
friendship.  Now  I  am  going  away  from  Russia  for- 
ever;  I  shall  start  at  daylight  to-morrow.  Do  not 
look  surprised  and  ask  me  why?  I  seem  a  worthless 
outlaw  at  the  best.  I  am  going  no  one  knows  where 
or  how ;  going  to  live,  if  live  I  can,  an  honest,  hon- 
orable life.  But  I  cannot  bear  to  go,  leaving  such  a 
parting  to  cling  like  a  nightmare  about  me  forever. 
I  hoped  I  might  see  her  here,  just  see  her,  and 
carry  that  picture  to  wipe  away  those  last  bitter 
words  —  oh,  they  were  bitter  indeed  !  — that  she  said 
to  me." 

"And  did  you  indeed  suppose  that  a  lady  would 
cheerily  accept  a  sympathy  offered  because  her  hus- 
band loved  a  pretty  peasant  girl?  By  my  faith,  Gen- 
eral Wolzonn,  you  have  been  a  bachelor  too  long ! 
There's  many  such  a  skeleton  in  the  mansions  of 
nobility,  but  few  are  the  noble  ladies  who  like  to 
have  the  bones  rattled  even  by  their  dearest  friends." 

"  But  why  could  not  I  have  thought  of  that  before?  " 
asked  the  officer,  as  the  nature  of  things  began  to 
appear  to  him. 

"This  world  is  very  odd,  monsieur,"  Frau  von 
Ockel  continued,  smiling  an  answer  to  his  question ; 
"and  the  more  we  try  to  arrange  it  to  please  ourselves, 
the  more  it  displeases  us.  There  is  never  a  ' must' 
said  in  this  world,  but  there's  a  '  will  not '  springs  up  to 
answer  it.  I  am  sorry,  very  sorry  that  you  are  going 
away.  Of  course  I  will  not  ask  you  why,  but  I  do 
not  at  all  believe  that  it  will  be  forever.  A  Russian 
cannot  long  live  out  of  Russia.  He  would  rather,  I 
believe,  be  exiled  to  Siberia,  so  he  might  be  sure  he 
was  still  in  Russia." 


240  CASTLE    FOAM. 

The  officer  winced.  He  thought  not,  but  the  lady 
continued  :  "  I've  just  a  little  suggestion  for  you  that 
many  a  man  has  found  to  his  advantage.  Since  you 
cannot  have  things  as  you  want  them,  why  not  take 
things  as  they  are,  and  make  the  best  of  them?  And 
as  for  this  queer  little  romance  you  have  got  into,  why 
not  wait  till  you  are  well  out  of  Russia,  and  write  to 
the  lady?  Tell  her  you  did  not  mean  to  shake  the 
skeleton,  but  tell  her  carefully,  and  see  if  she  will  not 
be  good-hearted  and  common  sense  enough  to  forgive 
you,  and  herself  wipe  out  the  nightmare." 

"My  dear  Lady  von  Ockel,  a  lifelong  thank  you !  " 
exclaimed  General  Wolzonn,  kissing  her  hand,  and 
they  left  the  room  together.  Frau  von  Ockel  had 
dropped  her  fan  by  the  window.  It  was  the  only 
trace  they  left  behind. 

The  two  shadows  of  the  comforter  and  comforted 
had  hardly  left  the  room,  to  be  lost  in  the  gay  com- 
pany beyond,  when  another  shadow  appeared  in  the 
long  window.  The  figure  came  through  the  curtains 
and  stood  alone  in  the  little  room,  silent  for  a  moment. 

She  picked  up  the  fan  that  lay  at  her  feet,  and 
turned  it  slowly  over,  examining  it  with  apparent 
interest.  It  was  of  exquisite  workmanship,  wrought 
by  the  Chinese  from  the  shell  of  the  sea-turtle.  Then 
turning,  calmly  as  one  might,  she  hung  it  on  the 
knob  of  the  window.  Who  would  have  thought  that  a 
terrific  storm  was  shaking  the  very  foundation  of  her 
nature  ! 

She  pressed  her  forehead  between  her  hands  a 
moment,  then  stood  erect  again,  as  though  ashamed 
of  it. 

As  her  hands  fell,  her  eyes  were  fastened  upon  a 


MY    HUSBAND.  24! 

heavy  ring  on  one  finger.  It  bore  the  crest  of  Meer- 
schaum, set  in  diamonds.  It  was  the  wedding-gift  of 
the  Prince  Reppoun,  and  had  not  left  that  finger  since 
he  placed  it  there.  Madly  she  tore  it  off.  It  cut  the 
flesh  as  it  came,  leaving  a  stain  of  blood  upon  the  gold 
band.  It  flashed  in  the  dim  light.  She  looked  at  it 
a  moment,  then  threw  it  fiercely  out  of  the  window. 

"So  go  away  from  me!"  she  cried.  "Throw  me 
away  from  you,  Prince  Victor  von  Meerschaum ! 
You  I  man  whose  footprints  I  have  laved  in  love ! 
An  hour  ago  I  could  have  walked  these  streets  ragged 
and  barefooted  by  your  side.  This  moment  I  would 
not  sit  upon  a  throne  and  be  your  wife.  My  husband? 
Yes,  my  husband  !  Devil !  Fiend  !  " 

Constantine  Wolzonn  stood  before  her.  As  much 
surprised  as  she,  he  stammered,  "  Lady  princess, 
pardon  me  !  I  did  not  mean  to  interrupt  you.  Lady 
von  Ockel  dropped  her  fan  in  here,  and  I  came  in 
search  of  it." 

He  turned  to  go.  She  called  him  back.  "  Here  is 
the  fan,"  she  said,  handing  it  to  him.  He  took  it,  but 
she  still  held  it.  Involuntarily  his  eyes  met  hers. 
They  were  piercing  and  black  in  the  dim  light.  They 
seemed  on  fire  with  some  hidden  passion  beneath 
them.  The  lady  continued  : 

"It  was  an  hour  ago  you  interrupted  me,  when  I 
was  watching  the  cold  stars  out  on  this  balcony." 

Her  hand  dropped  from  the  fan.  The  soldier 
started. 

"  What !     You  did  not  hear?  " 

"I  heard  that  you  were  going  away  from  Russia. 
Tell  me,  before  you  go,  will  you  forgive  me  what  I 
said  to  you  yesterday  ?  " 
16 


242  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"  I  forgive  you  ?  Lady  princess,  what  do  you  mean  ? 
But  you  did  not  hear  all  ?  " 

"  The  balcony  is  small ;  I  did  not  try  to  help  it. 
General  Wolzonn,  you  have  shaken  a  skeleton  before 
me,  the  presence  of  which  I  had  not  so  much  as 
dreamed  of  before." 

"  God  forgive  me,  lady  !  " 

"  Nay,  rather  be  thanked  !    Monsieur,  I  trust  you." 

"  Then  God  be  thanked  !  For  your  confidence  I 
would  forfeit  life." 

"  Shall  I  believe  it?     Will  you  prove  it  true?  " 

"  Heaven  witness,  lady  !     Here  I  swear  I  will." 

"  Then  take  me  with  you  where  you  are  going ! 
Take  me  away  from  the  horrible  blackness  that  awaits 
me  at  Meerschaum.  Oh,  Constantine  Wolzonn,  be 
my  friend,  as  you  have  sworn  it." 

"  Mercy  !  mercy  !  Heaven  help  me  !  "  groaned  the 
officer  while  she  spoke.  The  dream  of  his  life,  the 
sun  of  his  heaven,  was  within  his  grasp  the  moment  he 
had  banished  it  forever. 

" What  means  that  sigh?"  exclaimed  the  princess. 
"  Does  my  friend  hesitate  in  the  hour  when  he  can 
save  me?" 

"  Lady  princess,"  groaned  the  officer,  "  whom  God 
hath  joined  —  " 

"God  joined?"  she  cried.  "I  did  it  —  I,  and  the 
bishop,  and  Father  Charlovitz  ;  and  God,  who  did  not 
do  it,  punishes  me." 

"Then  dare  you  fly?  Nay,  lady,  let  me  help  you 
bear  it  where  you  are,  and  better  the  blackness  at 
Meerschaum  if  we  can." 

"  Duplicit  knave  !  "  exclaimed  the  princess,  start- 
ing back  from  him.  "  Aye,  leave  me  in  a  nursery  to 


MY    HUSBAND.  243 

which  hell  would  be  preferable,  then  come  and  lave 
my  hand  for  a  caress." 

Constantine  Wolzonn,  trembling  from  head  to  foot, 
turned  to  leave  her. 

"  Forgive  me  !  forgive  me  !  "  she  cried,  falling  on 
her  knees ;  "  I  did  not  know  what  I  was  saying.  But 
if  you  love  me,  if  you  ever  loved  me,  oh,  pity  me ! 
Take  me  somewhere  —  take  me  anywhere  !  Take 
me  with  you,  and  kill  me,  and  with  my  dying  breath 
I  will  bless  you  for  your  kindness  !  " 

The  officer  covered  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  and 
turned  his  head  away.  He  could  not  see  her  and  not 
yield.  Love  wrings  the  heart  when  it  is  tuned  to 
pity. 

"  Nay,  do  not  turn  your  eyes  away,"  she  pleaded. 
"  Look  at  me,  look  at  your  cousin,  look  at  the  Prin- 
cess von  Meerschaum  down  in  the  dust  to  you.  Ah  ! 
pray  forget  the  past  and  carry  me  away." 

Was  it  in  mortal  man  to  hold  much  longer?  Voices 
sounded  in  the  corridor,  and  thanking  heaven  for  the 
intervention,  the  officer  exclaimed,  "Lady  princess, 
stand  up  !  For  your  name's  sake,  be  sensible  :  some 
one  is  coming." 

"  No,  I  will  not  stand  up  I  "  she  cried.  "  What  is  my 
name  to  me?  Let  them  see  me  who  will,  and  laugh 
at  a  broken  wreck  on  the  rock  Meerschaum." 

With  strong  arms  he  raised  her  to  her  feet. 

w  Lady  princess,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  leave  you  for  a 
moment.  Go  out  on  the  balcony  and  wait  there  till  I 
come." 

In  an  instant  he  was  gone,  and  she  was  upon  the 
balcony.  The  air  was  cold,  but  her  cheeks  burned 
as  though  her  whole  being  were  on  fire.  Dreary, 


244  CASTLE    FOAM. 

silent,  dark,  forsaken  was  the  street,  far  down  beneath 
her.  Away  in  the  distance  was  the  echo  of  horses' 
hoofs,  then  all  was  still  again.  Soon  the  bump,  bump, 
bump  of  wooden  shoes  sounded,  and  slowly  there  passed 
beneath  the  balcony  a  mean,  degraded  rag-picker; 
one  of  the  lowest  of  the  low  of  all  creation,  gathering 
their  life  out  of  the  gutters  of  death,  and  even  at  that, 
lest  they  should  gather  too  ample  a  livelihood,  they 
are  searched  by  police  whenever  they  meet  them, 
and  everything  of  value  is  taken  to  fill  the  guard- 
man's  purse. 

Under  the  window  he  stopped.  His  forlorn,  old  body 
almost  lost  its  equilibrium.  He  shaded  his  eyes  'with 
his  hand,  for  he  stood  in  the  faint  light  shed  from  the 
windows  of  the  palace.  Twice,  three  times  he  tried, 
before  he  raised  something  from  between  the  paving- 
stones,  on  the  point  of  his  iron  hook.  He  stood  for 
a  moment,  turning  it  over  and  over,  and  from  one 
hand  to  the  other,  to  convince  himself  that  he  held  a 
real  gold  ring  with  flashing  stones  in  it.  Then  he 
looked  from  window  to  window  of  the  palace,  and 
dropping  his  wooden  shoes  into  the  bag  upon  his  back, 
he  darted  into  a  black  by-way  at  a  faster  pace  than 
his  old  legs  had  carried  him  for  many  years. 

"You  are  welcome,  old  man,"  said  the  princess. 
"  May  it  give  you  more  pleasure  than  it  has  ever  given 
me." 

The  street  was  silent  again.  The  sky  was  cold, 
and  a  faint  gray  hovered  in  the  east,  tinged  with  the 
first  thought  of  the  dawning. 

"The  pavement  is  hard,"  she  whispered.  "It  would 
be  but  an  instant ! "  Her  hands  clasped  the  rail  of 
the  balcony.  "  Only  a  tiny  leap,  a  swift  breath  in  the 


MY   HUSBAND.  245 

air."  She  pressed  the  rail  closer.  "  One  leap,  and  all 
would  be  over.  Shall  I?  shall  I?"  She  — 

A  soft,  warm  hand  rested  on  hers,  a  soft  voice 
sounded.  M  My  lady,  the  — er —  the  night-air  is  dan- 
gerous." 

Her  ears  were  hardly  tuned  to  the  human  voice, 
already  waiting  for  the  whir  of  the  wind  rushing  past 
them. 

"I  will  go  in,  Monsieur  von  Bremen, "she  said,  with 
a  cold  shudder  that  made  the  Dane  shrug  his  shoul- 
ders, and  wonder  if  he  had  done  more  damage  at 
dinner  than  he  meant. 

What  was  it  caused  her  to  stop,  with  her  foot  upon 
the  sill?  Ah  !  many  a  moment  has  blotted  out  a  life- 
time as  it  passed.  She  hesitated.  A  random  thought 
had  flashed  across  her  mind.  In  an  instant  it  grew 
to  a  resolve. 

"  Monsieur  !  "  she  said. 

"My  lady,  '  Tout  d  vous.     Toujours pret.'    Yes." 

"  Then  listen  !  I  am  going  away  from  St.  Peters- 
burg. Will  you  go  with  me  for  a  little  way,  to  assist 
me?" 

The  Dane  was  on  his  knees  in  an  instant. 

"  And  you  will  be  my  wife  ?  " 

She  motioned  him  to  rise  with  an  imperious  gesture, 
and  answered,  "I  said  I  was  going  away  from  St. 
Petersburg." 

"  I  will  go  with  you  and  be  your  slave,"  the  Dane 
replied  humbly. 

"Very  well  then.  I  will  send  you  a  thousand  rubles 
in  the  morning  to  prepare.  Be  at  the  grove,  at  the 
east  end  of  the  castle  lawn,  upon  the  highway,  with 


246  CASTLE    FOAM. 

a  traveling-coach,  prepared  for  a  long  journey,  just 
one  hour  after  the  next  sunset  gun." 

Without  another  word  she  left  him. 

Rising  to  his  feet,  he  took  her  place  upon  the  bal- 
cony, and  as  her  coach  rolled  from  the  court  and 
passed  the  window,  he  shook  his  head,  and,  strange 
as  it  may  seem,  he  muttered,  "She  is  not  so  nearly 
mine  as  I  thought  this  afternoon." 

General  Wolzonn  returning,  having  nerved  himself 
to  urge  her,  force  her  if  it  lay  in  his  power,  back  to 
her  duty  at  Castle  Foam,  was  surprised  to  find  the 
change  upon  the  balcony ;  but  relieved  withal,  he 
walked  away  without  disturbing  the  figure  of  a  man 
that  had  taken  her  place.  It  was  well  for  him  that  he 
did  not  disturb  it. 


THE    SILVER    CORD    IS    LOOSED.  247 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    SILVER   CORD   IS   LOOSED. 

THE  Dane  at  once  began  a  search  for  Count  Olen- 
dorff,  who  had  as  ever  accompanied  him  to  the 
palace.  He  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  He  took  a 
public  carriage  and  drove  to  the  count's  residence, 
arranging  with  himself  a  simple  plan  upon  which  the 
count  was  to  proceed  to  carry  on  the  work  and  in- 
state himself  in  Meerschaum  while  he  kept  the  prin- 
cess away.  He  was  anxious  lest  the  count,  being  old, 
might  not  be  equal  to  everything ;  yet  there  was  no 
other  way,  as  he  was  thus  prevented  from  being  on 
hand  himself. 

"I  must  leave  it  all  with  him,"  he  said,  "him  and 
Priest  Charlovitz,  unless  I  can  bring  Wolzonn  back 
into  the  traces  again.  At  least,  I  will  see  the  gen- 
eral and  do  what  I  can  with  him." 

The  sleepy  houseman  declared  his  master  had 
been  in  four  hours,  but  the  count  had  often  left  such 
parties  early  as  he  had  grown  older. 

A  dim  light  shone  under  the  door  of  the  room  where 
the  count  always  sat.  The  Dane  knocked  with  his 
hand  on  the  latch,  and  entered  without  waiting  a  re- 
ply. Yes,  the  count  must  have  been  waiting  long  for 
him,  for  he  had  fallen  asleep  in  his  arm-chair. 

The  lamp  burned  low.     The  air  in  the  room  was 


248  CASTLE    FOAM. 

close.  But  from  the  darkness  of  the  hall  Von  Bremen 
could  see  well  enough  ;  and  as  for  the  smell,  he  had 
smelled  far  worse.  It  did  not  matter.  He  threw 
himself  into  a  chair  with  a  sigh.  The  burden  of 
scheming  rested  heavily  upon  him.  He  glanced  to- 
ward the  easy-chair.  The  count's  chin  rested  on  his 
chest ;  he  was  fast  asleep. 

"  No  harm  to  sleep  if  you  are  tired,  my  lord,"  he 
said,  almost  gently;  "but  it's  time  to  wake  up  now. 
Business  !  business,  my  lord  !  Wake  up  !" 

He  rapped  lightly  on  the  table,  but  the  count  had 
fallen  into  that  deep,  early  morning  sleep  that  is 
sound  even  in  an  arm-chair. 

"  You  usually  give  up  your  chair  to  me,"  said  the 
Dane ;  "  but  never  mind  to-night.  I'll  soon  have 
cushions  of  my  own  to  rest  upon ;  cushions  of  my 
own  !  Ha,  ha  !  " 

He  struck  the  table  a  little  harder,  and  with  a  fiend- 
ish smile  bent  over  and  looked  up  into  the  face  of 
the  sleeper. 

"  Beg  pardon  ! "  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  with  his 
face  very  near  the  count's.  "  I  did  not  know  but  you 
were  — er — er —  waking  up.  But  you  are  not ;  no. 
This  lamp  of  yours  burns  beastly  low,  and  smokes ! 
Lord  I  it  smells  strong  enough  to  raise  the  dead.  It 
gives  this  room  a  frightful,  ghostly  hue.  Come, 
come,  wake  up  !  I  want  some  fire  and  wine.  I  want 
to  talk  with  you  as  long  as  it  takes  your  old  clock  to 
bang  out '  twelve,'  and  then  be  gone,  for  I've  a  hard 
day's  work  ahead  of  me,  from  this,  an  hour  before  the 
sun  rises,  to  that,  an  hour  after  it  sets  again.  Now, 
come,  old  fellow !  I  say,  do  you  want  to  marry 
the  —  ?  " 


THE    SILVER    CORD    IS    LOOSED.  249 

He  touched  the  count's  arm  as  it  hung  over  the 
chair.  It  swung  in  its  socket  like  the  pendulum  of 
his  clock,  wearily,  slowly,  when  the  clock  quite  run 
down.  He  grasped  the  lamp  and  held  it  nearer. 
Was  the  count  ill  ?  The  little  flame  that  had  flickered 
and  smoked  in  the  socket  gave  one  flash  and  then 
went  out.  The  Dane  sprang  from  his  chair  so 
quickly  that  it  went  banging  backward  on  the  floor. 
It  was  so  dark  he  could  not  tell  if  the  crash  had 
roused  the  count.  The  shutters  were  fastened.  He 
could  not  find  the  bolt,  and  tore  them  open,  bursting 
it.  The  morning  light  came  softly  through  the  mists 
into  the  smoky  room.  He  returned  to  Count  Olen- 
dorfF.  Laying  his  hand  on  the  old  man's  forehead, 
he  lifted  the  head.  Bent  beyond  its  equilibrium,  it 
fell  the  other  way  and  rested  on  the  back  of  his  chair. 
With  a  horrible,  guttural  gurgle  the  lower  jaw  fell,  the 
mouth  was  opened  wide,  and  two  eyes  fixed  in  a  blind 
stare  were  fastened  directly  upon  Albrecht  von  Bre- 
men's face.  With  a  terrible  shudder  the  Dane  bowed 
the  head  upon  the  chest  again,  and  turned  toward 
the  window,  groaning  from  the  very  depths  of  his 
nature,  "  Lord  Count  OlendorfF  is  dead  !  "  All  that 
to  the  world  had  represented  the  once  great  Adjutant 
of  Russia  was  in  that  arm-chair,  dead  as  his  marble 
bust  above  the  fireplace. 

After  standing  before  the  window  till  the  first  shock 
of  the  discovery  had  worn  away,  he  sat  down  by  the 
table  again,  and  throwing  his  head  upon  his  arms, 
moaned  : 

"  Lost  again,  just  at  the  moment  of  my  victory  ! 
When  will  this  everlasting  '  almost '  end  in  one  suc- 
cess?" And  the  smoke  from  the  lamp,  as  it  curled 


250  CASTLE    FOAM. 

about  his  head,  seemed  forming,  by  some  mystery  of 
prophecy,  the  letters  of  one  word  in  answer  : 

w  Never  !  " 

"  Yes,  dead  !  "  he  repeated.  "  Dead  the  first  instant 
in  the  twenty  years  that  he  could  have  lent  a  helping 
hand  to  me.  H'm.  Now  I  think  of  it  all  soberly, 
I  believe  Count  Olendorff  is  wise.  I  wish  —  "  He 
lifted  his  head,  and  looked  at  the  dead  man.  "  I  do, 
I  almost  wish  that  I  sat  in  that  arm-chair  there.  But 
stop.  What  am  I  saying?  If  I  cannot  have  the 
whole,  I'll  have  the  half;  so  called  the  'better  half.' 
'Tis  better  to  elope  with  the  Princess  von  Meerschaum 
than  to  be  a  corpse  in  an  arm-chair;  yes,  far  better." 

In  the  natural  course  of  things  his  ever  hopeful 
heart  began  to  lift  his  spirits  up  again.  He  sat  erect ; 
then,  slowly  at  first,  and  soon  more  rapidly,  he 
searched  the  room,  apologizing  to  the  arm-chair  and 
its  contents  with  a  nod  and  a  smile,  and  the  words, 
"'Some  good  out  of  each  evil.'  That  was  your  motto. 
I  will  adopt  it,  and  see  what  good  may  come  of 
this." 

All  that  he  found  of  worth  and  little  size  he  put 
with  his  great-coat  in  the  corner :  a  bag  of  gold,  the 
heavy  cross  and  diamonds  worn  by  the  count  as  in- 
signia of  his  high  office  in  his  days  of  power,  several 
rings  and  honors. 

"  Hope  while  the  heart  beats,"  he  said.  "  And  what 
else  have  I  done  but  live  on  hope,  eat  hope  and  drink 
hope  for  the  whole  of  my  life,  and  I've  not  grown 
gouty  yet.  I'm  much  inclined  to  dread  a  failure  in 
this  venture  with  the  princess ;  but  I'll  hope  for  the 
best,  and  take  all  I  can  get.  I'd  laid  a  mountain 
of  hope  on  that  senseless  Lord  Olendorff;  yes ; 


THE    SILVER    CORD    IS    LOOSED.  251 

and  the  mountain  crushed  him.  My  mountains 
always  do." 

Now  he  came  upon  a  drawer  that  would  not  move. 

"  He  carried  the  key  to  that  in  his  pocket,"  he  mut- 
tered, and  began,  without  a  shudder  this  time,  to 
search  the  dead  man's  clothes. 

Almost  the  first  thing  he  found  was  a  paper  only 
half  thrust  into  the  coat-pocket.  He  opened  it. 

K  Dated  this  morning  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  The  last 
work  of  —  The  devil !  "  he  hissed.  "  What  do  I 
read !  '  Withdraw  all  disposal  of  my  property  to 
Albrecht  von  Bremen,  giving  it  without  reserve  to 
Kathi  Chichkini,  a  peasant  living  near  Arantha,  in 
Poland,  who  was  stolen  from  her  parents  in  St.  Pe- 
tersburg by  a  fraud  to  which  I  was  a  party.'  Villain  ! 
and  how  in  heaven  did  he  know  where  she  lived? 
'Some  good  out  of  each  evil.'  Yes,  you  were  very 
right,  old  man.  Lucky  for  me  you  died  just  when 
you  did." 

He  bent  over  and  looked  up  into  the  count's  eyes. 
"  Did  your  conscience  prick  you  at  the  ball  last  night, 
that  you  came  home  so  early  and  made  that  out?  Or 
was  it  the  grapple  of  Death  that  you  did  not  under- 
stand? If  you  had  lived  till  noon  to-day,  that  will 
would  have  been  on  record,  I  suppose,  and  I  blocked. 
But  the  will  must  go  for  the  deed  at  the  Judgment- 
day,  for  the  deed  will  be  nowhere  soon." 

He  set  the  paper  on  fire,  and  with  a  smile  watched 
it  burn  away  till  the  last  spark  had  meandered  over 
the  black  ash-heap,  and  all  was  gone.  Then  dashing 
the  ashes  into  a  thousand  flakes,  he  added  :  "  I  have 
destroyed  the  evidence  that  would  have  branded  on 
your  coffin-lid  that  comfortable  word,  '  a  knave ! ' 


252  CASTLE    FOAM. 

And  now,  farewell,  Count  Olendorff.  Farewell,  my 
patron  Olendorff.  I  cannot  help  you,  I  cannot  harm 
you  anymore.  I  look  at  your  face,  that — er — that 
old,  familiar  face,  for  the  last  time  now ;  for  I  am 
going  away  from  you,  my  lord,  and  you  are  going 
away  from  me.  We've  little  more  in  common,  unless 
your  theory  of  a  Judgment-day  be  true.  If  so,  then 
bear  you  your  witness  against  me  that  I  was  the  ser- 
pent that  tempted  you,  and  step  up  into  Paradise  from 
my  shoulders.  But  if  Pythagoras  may  chance  to  be 
right,  and  in  a  comfortable  metempsychosis  we  wan- 
der no  further  than  the  birds  and  butterflies,  then 
hold  !  transmigrate  you  with  care  ;  for  in  that  pa- 
per I  have  burned  you  did  belie  a  friend,  my  lord ; 
and  when  I  overtake  you,  I  shall  collect  it  as  a  debt, 
with  ample  usury." 

He  secreted  the  stolen  treasures  about  his  clothes 
and  in  the  pockets  of  his  overcoat ;  then  turning,  with 
his  hand  upon  the  latch,  he  added  :  "And  now,  until 
our  paths  do  come  again  together,  farewell,  Count 
Olendorff." 

Step  by  step  his  footfalls  echoed  on  the  stairs ;  and 
as  the  houseman  held  open  a  carriage-door  for  him 
he  dropped  a  coin  into  his  hand,  saying  :  "  My  poor 
old  man,  our  good  master  is  dead.  He  died  of — er — 
of — er — yes,  his  heart  ceased  beating  about  daylight 
this  morning.  Do  not  go  into  the  room  until  the 
priest  comes.  I  will  send  one  directly."  He  gave 
him  the  key. 

The  old  man  looked  first  at  the  speaker,  then  at  the 
coachman,  then  at  the  house,  then  at  the  ruble,  then 
at  the  key  of  his  master's  room,  which  the  Dane  had 
given  him. 


THE    SILVER    CORD    IS    LOOSED.  253 

"As  you  say  it  shall  be  done,"  he  answered ;  and 
closing  the  carriage-door,  entered  the  house  in  a  half 
dream,  repeating,  "  Dead,  dead,  dead  !  Died  because 
his  heart  stopped  beating  at  daylight?  He  never  died 
that  way  before,  since  these  many  years  I've  served 
him  as  his  honored  houseman,  yet  the  daylight  has 
come  every  morning,  as  I  remember,  unless  it  was  a 
storm,  or  the  like ; "  and  despite  the  Dane's  command 
and  his  promise,  he  went  directly  to  the  dead  man's 
room. 

Indeed  the  Dane  had  given  the  command  simply 
to  remind  him  that  he  had  better  go  up,  in  order  that 
he  might  have  some  one  to  charge  the  theft  of  the 
jewels  upon  in  case  it  was  discovered. 

All  day  long  Albrecht  von  Bremen  hurried  from 
high  to  low  and  back  to  high  again ;  as  much  at 
home  with  one  as  with  the  other;  as  familiar  and 
friendly  when  he  wrangled  with  some  petty  pawn 
jeweler  over  the  value  of  a  stone,  rudely  torn  from 
its  setting,  or  the  price  of  the  setting  with  the 
gems  all  taken  out, — for  he  was  too  thoughtful  of  the 
future  to  sell  them  together,  —  as  when,  with  quiet 
bow,  he  crossed  himself  before  the  church  authorities 
and  planned  for  the  burial  of  a  great  man  whose  sil- 
ver cord  was  loosed.  Then  he  dropped  in  upon  the 
priest.  Whoever  the  next  in  line  might  be,  the  Dane 
did  not  care ;  he  had  a  thumb-screw  that  would  apply 
equally  well  to  any  one  who  might  present  himself. 
His  plans  must  all  center  in  the  priest  now,  to  turn 
the  prince  out,  and  even  leave  the  place  vacant  if 
need  be,  till  he  could  secure  the  princess  and  Krama- 
reff,  and  then  return  to  do  the  rest. 


254  CASTLE    FOAM. 

He  trembled  to  place  so  much  in  the  hands  of  one 
whose  constancy  was  so  little  to  be  relied  upon ;  but 
nothing  better  could  be  done,  since  he  had  found  him- 
self baffled,  as  we  know,  in  a  search  for  General 
Wolzonn.  His  nerves  were  well-nigh  exhausted.  He 
dreaded  the  interview. 

After  ten  minutes'  talk,  however,  with  the  priest  he 
became  convinced  that  something  had  influenced  him 
strongly  in  his  favor.  What  it  was  he  did  not  ask  ;  he 
did  not  even  stop  to  wonder.  He  gave  him  the  con- 
nected chain  of  evidence  and  the  address  of  the  actress 
who  was  to  clinch  the  nail,  better  satisfied  that  the 
work  would  be  done. 

In  a  sense  his  conclusion  was  correct,  for  the  priest 
had  all  day  followed  a  line  of  thought  very  like  that 
which  had  passed  through  his  mind  just  before  the 
Dane  entered. 

"  What  a  change  has  come  over  me !  "  Father 
Charlovitz  had  said  to  himself.  "  I  cannot  under- 
stand myself.  Has  the  evil  one  possessed  me?  It 
cannot  be ;  yet  something  drives  me  beyond  with- 
standing. For  the  dignity  of  the  church  I  may  not 
be  thus  bent  and  beaten  without  resentment.  For- 
bearance would  be  treason  to  my  office.  A  day  has 
passed ;  he  has  offered  no  apology.  As  Heinrich 
Charlovitz  lives,  that  man  shall  suffer  !  " 

Albrecht  von  Bremen  found  the  priest  looking 
somewhat  browbeaten,  with  a  very  black  shadow 
about  one  eye.  The  priest  explained  that  he  had 
tripped  on  a  protruding  root  and  struck  his  head 
against  a  branch  of  Meerschaum  ;  and  the  Dane  re- 
plied : 

"Protruding  branches,   and  roots  not  growing  in 


THE    SILVER    CORD    IS    LOOSED.  255 

the  ground  where  they  belong,  are — er — yes,  sadly 
out  of  place." 

But  to  Albrecht  von  Bremen  he  had  said :  "  He 
never  struck  that  head  of  his  against  a  branch,  un- 
less there  is  some  spiritual  rendering  there ;  nor  do 
roots  trip  up  a  man  walking  so  slowly  as  a  priest.  It 
strikes  me  the  prince  may  have  returned,  —  a  very 
potent  branch  of  Meerschaum  he  !  —  and  been  up  to 
some  of  his  father's  tricks.  Many  a  black  eye  floated 
round  the  castle  in  those  days,  from  which  affliction 
priests  were  not  exempt,  if  they  trod  upon  the  old 
man's  toes." 

"  Has  Father  Charlovitz  thought  of  our  conversa- 
tion?" he  asked. 

"  I  see  a  certain  justice  in  Monsieur  von  Bremen's 
claim  if  the  princess  be  not  injured  by  it,"  he  replied. 

"Very  good,"  said  the  Dane.  "One  hour  after 
sunset  to-night  she  will  leave  Castle  Foam  forever, 
of  her  own  free  will,  in  princely  state,  to  claim  her 
own  as  the  Countess  von  Kramareff,  after -making  a 
short  journey,  during  which  time  you  are  expected  to 
have  completed  the  work  and  be  ready  for  the  reward 
which  is  waiting  for  you." 

The  priest  bowed  his  assent  without  an  answer, 
and  the  Dane  left  him. 

As  Heinrich  Charlovitz  stood  in  his  little  study-door 
watching  the  carriage  drive  away,  a  boy  stopped  and 
crossed  himself. 

"Good  father!" 

"Well,  my  son,  what  is  it?" 

"  How  many  times  must  I  forgive  a  boy  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Till  seventy  times  seven,  my  son." 

"That  will  be  very  hard,  for  he  struck  my  little  sis- 


256  CASTLE    FOAM. 

ter  twice,  and  threw  mud  at  her,  and  he  says  he  will 
do  it  again  ;  and  I  would  like  to  pound  him  if  it  would 
not  be  wrong." 

The  priest  held  up  a  crucifix,  and  pointing  to  a 
painting  of  the  Lord  in  agony  upon  it,  said : 

"When  He  was  reviled  and  spit  upon,  my  son,  for 
your  sake  and  mine  He  reviled  not  again." 

"Nor  will  I,  good  father,"  said  the  boy.  But  as  he 
walked  slowly  away  he  mused  :  "  It  almost  seems  as 
though  I  ought  to  pound  him.  I  wonder  if  the  Lord 
Jesus  had  had  a  little  sister,  and  if  a  boy  threw  mud 
at  her  and  struck  her,  what  he  would  have  done.  I 
wish  he  had  struck  me.  It  wouldn't  matter  half  so 
much.  Oh,  I  am  very  wicked  !  I  want  to  pound 
him.  Shall  I  ever  be  as  good  as  that  holy  priest?  I 
suppose  he  could  forgive  anything." 

Why  was  it  that  none  of  the  shadow  of  the  cross, 
with  its  seventy  times  seven,  fell  over  the  priest  as  he 
held  it  up? 

To  the  owners  of  names  here  below  there  are  surely 
two  values,  an  estimated  and  an  actual. 


MISUNDERSTOOD.  257 


CHAPTER    IX. 

MISUNDERSTOOD. 

rwas  almost  time  for  the  sunset  gun.  EHse  knew 
that  her  mistress  was  going  somewhere  upon  a 
journey.  She  knew  it  was  for  no  good,  for  the  cards 
had  all  told  wrong  ;  she  knew  that  she  was  to  accom- 
pany her,  and  she  did  not  want  to  go ;  hence,  hear- 
ing that  the  prince  had  returned,  — she  had  been  a 
prisoner  in  the  princess's  apartments  all  day  to  keep 
her  tongue  from  doing  mischief, — she  hurried  back 
with  the  news,  from  an  errand  upon  which  she  had 
been  sent  across  the  hall.  Her  mistress  turned  sud- 
denly white,  white  as  marble  ;  then,  rising  in  a 
determined  way,  went  out  and  locked  the  door  behind 
her.  Elise  was  still  a  prisoner,  and  it  did  not  please 
her  over-much. 

The  prince  was  in  his  library.  The  princess  rapped, 
but  receiving  no  answer,  frowned,  opened  the  door, 
and  entered,  closing  it  behind  her.  That  moment 
she  wished  she  had  not  come,  but  was  too  proud 
to  fly. 

The  prince  crouched  on  an  ottoman  by  the  distant 
window,  his  arms  wound  painfully  over  the  pedestal 
of  Vishnu,  still  clad  in  a  thick  fur  coat  and  high- 
topped  boots,  his  hair  tangled  over  his  head,  his  face 
buried  in  his  arms.  Had  he  gone  mad?  Would  he 
17 


258  CASTLE    FOAM. 

tear  her  in  pieces  there,  in  the  house  where  he  mar- 
ried her,  to  make  room  for  that  peasant  of  Arantha 
and  her  child? 

"  My  lord  !  "  she  said  timidly. 

He  did  not  move. 

"  My  lord  !  "  she  said  again,  beginning  to  tremble 
violently,  "  it  was  not  told  me  till  this  instant  that  you 
were  in  the  house.  Are  you  ill?  " 

Very  slowly  he  lifted  his  head.  His  eyes  were 
bloodshot.  His  face  was  haggard. 

"  And  what  is  that  to  you,  madame,  whether  I  be 
or  not?  "  he  asked  in  a  harsh  bitter  voice. 

Startled  beyond  all  considerations  of  what  she 
said,  the  princess  exclaimed,  "  Nothing  !  nothing,  my 
lord ! " 

"Aye,  nothing!  I  thought  so.  And  how  of  that 
devil's  dog,  Bremen  of  Denmark  !  —  is  he  ill,  that  he 
is  not  now  in  your  embrace  ?  " 

"  Who?  "  gasped  the  princess,  coming  to  her  senses. 

"  Oh,  no  one !  no  one,  your  ladyship  !  Only  an 
imaginary  character." 

The  blood  of  bold  Kramareff  rushed  through  the 
veins  of  the  princess. 

"  Your  Highness,"  she  exclaimed,  "  fares  it  ill  be- 
tween you  and  Kathi  Chichkini  of  Arantha,  in  Poland, 
that  she  is  not  still  resting  in  your  arms?  " 

"Who?"  ejaculated  the  prince,  springing  to  his 
feet. 

"  Oh,  no  one !  no  one,  your  lordship !  I  was 
simply  imagining  a  character." 

"So  you  have  found  me  out?"  the  prince  said, 
throwing  himself  again  upon  the  ottoman. 

"You  seem  to  think  you  have  found  me  out." 


MISUNDERSTOOD.  259 

This  suddenly  recalled  the  Dane  again,  and,  look- 
ing up,  the  prince  replied  : 

"  Woman,  this  thing  is  preposterous  !  " 

"Aye,  my  lord,  it  is  preposterous." 

"  What  mean  such  words  to  me  ?  they  are  in- 
sulting ! " 

"  They  are  your  words  to  me,  my  lord,  and  they 
are  insulting." 

Stamping  the  floor  in  his  rage,  the  prince  replied, 
"  Madame,  did  you  ever  see  me  lavishing  on  another 
favors  and  love  I  never  paid  to  you?  —  kinder  words  ! 
softer  smiles  !  damned  kisses  !  like  a  frantic  —  " 

"  Enough  !  I  have  not  seen  it,  but  I  know  that 
you  have  seen  yourself  doing  just  that  thing  ;  you  —  " 

"Stop,  stop  !  madame  !  I  will  hear  no  more.  This 
thing  must  end,"  said  the  prince,  standing  once  more 
before  her.  Stung  to  the  quick,  and  shamed  by  the 
vivid  picture  of  himself,  which  he  had  intended  to  be 
of  her,  he  had  said,  "This  thing  must  end."  He 
knew  of  but  one  ending.  He  was  ready  to  kneel 
and  ask  her  pardon, — to  be  forgiven  and  as  freely 
to  forgive. 

The  princess  was  on  fire  with  rage.  She  had 
been  thus  denounced,  coupled  with  shame,  by  a  man 
who  had  just  left  the  side  of  an  unlawful  love.  She 
knew  of  but  one  ending,  the  one  she  had  planned  for 
herself.  With  a  tone  heavy-laden  with  scorn,  she 
replied  :  "  Let  it  end,  Prince  von  Meerschaum,  and 
the  sooner  so  much  the  better.  In  one  hour,  unless 
by  force  you  prevent  me,  I  shall  leave  you  and  your 
castle  forever." 

The  prince  staggered  back  to  the  ottoman.  In- 
stantly the  heart  that  would  have  melted  was  frozen 


260  CASTLE    FOAM. 

hard  again.  Burying  his  face  in  one  hand  on  the 
pedestal,  he  extended  the  other,  saying,  "Leave  me, 
Lady  von  Kramareff  !  Go  when  you  wi1! !  go 
where  you  will !  Or  stay  you  here,  and  I  will  go." 

"Be  pleased  to  remain,  Prince  von  Meerschaum. 
I  choose  to  go.  Farewell !  " 

The  door  closed.  The  princess  was  gone.  The 
prince  raised  his  hands  above  his  head.  "Aye!  I 
have  done  it  at  last,"  he  groaned,  "  and  the  world  is 
not  large  enough  to  contain  my  misery.  One  lost, 
the  other  gone.  Both  the  worse  for  me,  and  I  the 
worse  for  both  of  them.  But  hold  !  "  he  exclaimed, 
springing  toward  the  door.  "I  will  stop  her!  she 
shall  not  go  ! "  He  stood  still  for  a  moment,  then 
shook  his  head.  "No,  no!  Let  her  go!  She  has 
only  played  a  farce  with  me.  She  goes  because  she 
wishes  to.  She  goes  with  Albrecht  von  Bremen  and 
because  she  loves  him.  Let  her  go  !  " 

"  Merciful  God  !  "  he  prayed,  "  grant  me  respite  ! 
Oh,  grant  me  respite  I  Take  my  wealth,  O  God ! 
take  everything.  Give  me  but  one  hour  of  peace  of 
mind.  Grant  me  expiation,  absolution,  rest  from 
this  misery.  My  punishment  has  been  enough  !  Take 
it  away !  Take  everything  with  it,  so  that  it  leaves 
me  my  own  old  self  again." 

He  staggered  weakly  on  his  feet,  and  pressed  his 
forehead  with  his  hands. 

"  Oh,  I  am  faint !  I  am  famished !  Since  six-and- 
thirty  hours  ago  and  more  I  have  tasted  neither  food 
nor  sleep,  and  I  was  well-nigh  worn  out  then.  Can 
I,  in  such  a  state,  wield  sober  judgment?  Do  I 
know  what  I  am  doing?  Do  I  know  what  I  have 
done  ?  Hold  !  Stay  these  fearful  apparitions  !  The 


MISUNDERSTOOD.  261 

room  grows  dark  around  me.  Wait!  I  have  acted 
blind.  I  have  been  misunderstood!  Hold!  hold,  I 
say,  till  I  can  act  again  ! " 

He  fell  heavily  upon  the  floor,  his  face  downward, 
and  lay  motionless,  while  the  prayer  he  had  prayed, 
carried  up  to  that  far  throne  where  prayers  are  heard, 
was  cast  into  the  "mill  of  the  gods,"  and,  as  it  passed 
between  the  upper  and  the  nether  stones,  an  an- 
swering destiny  was  ground  ;  "  slowly,"  as  those  mills 
grind  always,  but  ground  "  exceeding  small." 

There  were  strange  suspicions  and  unaccountable 
tremblings  in  the  servants'  hall  that  night. 

"Why  are  we  shut  in  here,  and  not  one  of  us 
allowed  in  the  castle?  "  asked  one. 

A  shadow  passed  a  window  where  several  were 
looking  out.  A  door  was  quickly  opened,  and  some 
one  called  "Leo!  is  that  you?"  But  the  shadow 
made  no  answer,  and  disappeared. 

Later,  two  servants,  headed  by  the  butler,  emerged 
from  th,e  door. 

"We  must  find  Leo  first,"  said  he,  "and  know  if  we 
are  still  to  keep  out  of  the  castle.  Look  !  it  is  black 
from  tower  to  door." 

"  There's  something  wrong  abroad,"  said  one. 

"I'm  jumping  from  every  bush  as  from  the  devil," 
said  another. 

"Hark!  Did  ye  hear  a  cry?  Or  are  my  wits 
gone  to  fear?" 

The  butler  turned  about.  His  face  was  white  in 
the  moonlight ;  it  was  always  red  with  wine. 

"  And  did  ye  too  hear  the  cry,  or  was  it  the  scream 
of  an  owl?"  asked  the  servant. 

The  butler  touched  his  wine-tipped  nose  and  an- 


262  CASTLE    FOAM. 

swered,  "I  heard  it.  This  is  not  a  common  night.  I 
tell  ye,  men,  it  was  not  an  owl's  voice,  and  ye  are 
right  to  fear.  We  will  go  back  to  the  castle  and  send 
for  the  priest.  I  am  not  afraid,  but  I  will  go  with  ye 
to  guard  ye,  for  who  should  know  better  and  disre- 
gard the  warning  of  such  a  cry  as  that?  'Twas  the 
cry  of  a  dying  soul  we  heard." 

And  the  butler  was  nearer  right  than  he  thought 
for. 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL   EVIDENCE.  263 


CHAPTER    X. 

CIRCUMSTANTIAL  EVIDENCE. 

THROUGH  sleet  and  snow  and  thaw,  a  Paris- 
ian winter's  day,  a  brisk  little  man  wound  his 
way  down  the  Rue  de  Rivoli,  from  the  police  head- 
quarters. He  stopped  at  the  Rue  Castiglione,  con- 
sulted a  paper,  then  consulted  a  gendarme ;  then 
raised  his  umbrella  —  he  had  been  walking  under  the 
arcade  before  —  and  started  down  the  street,  at  the 
end  of  which  rose  the  Column  Vendome.  He  had 
no  time  to  walk  around  the  square  that  surrounded  it, 
though  the  crossing  through  the  center  had  not  been 
cleared,  and  ran  a  step  or  two,  sooner  than  wait  for 
a  lagging  horse  to  pass  him.  He  stopped  for  an  in- 
stant to  kick  the  snow  from  his  boots  against  the  iron 
railing  that  surrounded  the  great  bronze  tower  circled 
in  a  spiral  with  bas-reliefs  of  Napoleon's  conquests  in 
Russia,  and  wrought  from  Russian  arms,  —  erected 
by  the  exiled  emperor  in  1806,  to  displace  an  eques- 
trian statue  of  Louis  XIV. 

The  man  shuddered  as  he  looked  at  it,  for  he  was 
a  Russian,  and  hurried  on  to  the  Rue  Neuve  St. 
Augustin.  There  he  began  counting  the  numbers, 
and  presently  entered  a  dismal  court  through  a  din- 
gy brownstone  front,  looking  down  a  narrow  alley, 
that  afterward,  under  the  magic  finger  of  Louis 


264  CASTLE    FOAM. 

Napoleon,  grew  to  the  grand  avenue  leading  to  his 
royal  opera-house. 

As  an  old  woman  came  to  the  door,  two  gray  bul- 
let-eyes were  fastened  upon  her  in  a  way  that  said, 
"  Be  careful  and  tell  me  the  truth,  the  whole  truth, 
and  nothing  but  the  truth." 

"  Is  there  a  Monsieur  Rubens  living  here  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"Roubeens?  Roubeens?  No,  monsieur.  None  of 
that  name  here." 

"Rubens  !  Rubens  !  "  explained  the  little  man. 

But  still  the  old  woman  shook  her  head.  "There's  no 
such  man  as  Roubeens  here,  unless  it  be  an  old  man 
on  the  sixth  floor,  just  moved  in,  upward  of  seventy- 
five.  I  think,  for  I  am  seventy-three,  and  he  told  me 
he  was  the  better  of  us  two,  and  I  know  his  name  is 
not  Roubeens." 

The  stranger  heard  her  through.  It  is  impossible 
to  turn  the  drift  of  such  an  one's  conversation.  They 
always  come  back  to  the  point  with  the  clearest  heads 
if  let  alone.  He  dropped  a  five-franc  piece  into  the 
woman's  ready  palm,  and  said,  "This  Rubens  is  a 
young  man ;  been  here  about  two  months ;  gives 
fencing-lessons,  you  know." 

"Ah,  monsieur,  there  is  one  Felix,  on  the  third 
floor,  does  that,  and  teaches  children  in  some  other 
things  than  fencing.  Third  floor,  monsieur.  My 
legs  are  pretty  stiff  with  age,  or  I'd  go  up  before  you," 
she  added,  looking  at  the  five-franc  piece. 

A  tall,  pale  man  opened  the  door  on  the  third  floor. 
He  was  thin,  much  like  one  wasting  in  consumption ; 
his  long  hair  was  combed  directly  back  from  his  fore- 
head. His  face  was  smooth-shaven.  Green  specta- 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL    EVIDENCE.  265 

cles  covered  his  eyes.  He  was  wrapped  in  a  long, 
flowered  dressing-gown  and  slippers. 

"  This  is  Monsieur  Rubens,"  the  little  man  said,  as 
though  he  were  giving  a  piece  of  information.  And 
he  looked  at  the  tall  man  in  a  way  that  made  him  shrink 
back  into  a  shadow  as  he  replied,  "  Yes  —  or  no ; 
Monsieur  Rubens  has  left.  I  am  Felix,  at  your  ser- 
vice." 

"  I  am  sorry.  I  wanted  to  see  Monsieur  Rubens," 
said  the  little  man,  never  taking  his  eyes  off  the  tall 
fencing-master,  which  was  evidently  making  him 
very  uncomfortable. 

"  Monsieur  Rubens  left  before  I  came  to  this  house," 
said  he  ;  "  but  I  will  find  his  address  for  you.  Do 
you  wish  to  send  some  word  to  him  ?  " 

The  little  man  took  his  eyes  off  at  last,  much  to 
the  relief  of  the  fencing-master,  and  smiling  in  an 
incomprehensible  way,  replied,  "  Perhaps  Monsieur 
Felix  will  do  as  well." 

"  If  I  may  be  of  service,  command  me." 

"  Good  !  By  that  authority  I  command  you  to  go 
back  with  me  to  Petersburg." 

The  fencing-master  sprang  fairly  off  his  feet,  and 
when  he  came  down  again  was  several  shades  whiter 
than  before. 

"  I  cannot,"  he  gasped.     "  It  is  impossible  !  " 

"  Really  ?"  said  the  little  man.  "  I  thought  I  was 
to  command  you." 

"  I  tell  you  I  am  not  Monsieur  Felix  —  Rubens,  I 
mean.  I  —  " 

"You  are  confused,  monsieur.  Call  it  the  good  old 
Wolzonn ;  'tis  better  than  either." 

The  little  man  was  right. 


266  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"  Found  out !  Curse  the  luck  of  it !  "  groaned  Con- 
stantine  Wolzonn,  sinking  into  a  chair. 

"  And  while  you  are  about  it,"  added  the  little  man, 
"  curse  the  very  devil  of  a  hunt  I  have  had  for  you 
all  over  Europe  in  mid-winter."  He  removed  his 
wig  and  false  beard,  disclosing  one  of  the  hunting- 
party  by  the  Round  Lake,  an  intimate  friend  of  both 
Wolzonn  and  Reppoun ;  and  extending  his  hand, 
added,  "  The  game  is  up,  and  I  have  won.  Now  let's 
shake  hands  and  talk  it  over." 

But  the  fencing-master  sullenly  refused. 

"  By  what  right  do  you  come  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Bless  my  soul !  Are  you  angry  ?  Then  I  will 
wait,  explain  my  authority,  and  trust  for  a  shake  of 
the  hand  afterward.  I  come  by  order  of  the  Tzar. 
In  fact,  from  his  own  purse  he  pays  my  expenses,  and 
offers  me  an  honor  if  I  come  back  successful.  He 
wants  to  see  you." 

"  I  thought  so,"  groaned  the  fencing-master.  "  Do 
you  happen  to  know  what  he  wants  of  me  ?  " 

"He  wants  you  to  release  the  prince,  who  for  three 
months  now  has  been  lying  in  a  horrible  dungeon, 
under  charge  of  committing  the  murder." 

""The  murder!  Yes,"  said  Constantine  Wolzonn. 
Then  the  man  that  was  in  him,  covered  so  far  from 
the  light  by  his  years  of  crime,  trembling,  and  tor- 
ture, roused  itself,  and  he  rose  firmly  to  his  feet,  say- 
ing, "  Better  the  right  man  should  suffer  than  the 
wrong.  Count,  here  is  my  hand.  I  will  go  back 
with  you  to  Russia."  And  the  count  grasped  the 
hand  of  one  who  at  that  moment,  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life,  actually  became  a  man. 

Constantine  Wolzonn  was    free   in   Paris.     There 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL    EVIDENCE.  267 

was  no  friendship  between  the  Tzar  and  France  that 
would  not  rather  invite  him  to  remain  than  go,  if  the 
Tzar  wanted  him.  He  plainly  saw  the  result  of  the 
step  he  so  calmly  resolved  to  take  —  the  rest  of  his 
life  in  the  horrible  dearth  of  frozen  Siberia.  It  was 
an  enormous  sacrifice,  after  all  he  had  sacrificed  his 
life  through  to  prevent  it,  yet  he  made  it  cheerfully. 
More  than  once  in  the  past  three  months  he  hud  seri- 
ously thought  of  going  back,  giving  himself  up,  and 
taking  the  consequences.  When  the  pinch  came  he 
had  for  the  moment  rebelled ;  but  when,  on  second 
thought,  he  said,  "  I  will  go  back  with  you,"  he  turned 
the  leaf  that  had  stuck  so  long,  and  found  a  clean  page 
before  him,  —  the  old  man  and  his  record  wiped  away, 
and  a  new  life  before  him,  ready  for  him  to  make  what 
he  could  of  it. 

They  sat  down ;  neither  spoke  for. a  moment.  The 
count  was  satisfied  that  his  work  was  done  at  last  — 
a  work  which,  as  will  appear,  was  not  for  the  Tzar, 
nor  yet  that  his  expenses  were  paid  by  the  crown,  nor 
yet  for  the  promised  honor  that  he  had  been  induced 
to  undertake.  He  was  a  member  of  the  Royal  Coun- 
cil. The  fencing-master  was  more  than  satisfied  to 
be  silent,  contemplating  with  a  thrill  of  joy  the  great 
turn  in  the  tide  of  life  that  was  to  make  of  him  a  de- 
graded exile,  forced  to  work  with  might  and  main  for 
a  meager  livelihood.  At  last  it  occurred  to  him  to 
ask  : 

"Who  is  this  prince  arrested  for  the  murder?" 
"The  Prince  von  Meerschaum,  of  course." 
"  The  Prince  von  Meerschaum  !     He  was  a  baby  I 
Why,  man,  what  murder  do  you  mean?  " 


268  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"What  murder?  General  Wolzonn,  have  you  be- 
come an  idiot?  The  murder  of  the  princess." 

"Not  the  Princess  von  Meerschaum?" 

"Yes,  the  Princess  von  Meerschaum.  Have  you 
not  heard  from  Russia  since  you  left?  The  press  of 
the  world  has  been  full  of  it." 

"  Oh,  Heaven  !  "  groaned  the  fencing-master.  "  I 
had  rather  be  taken  back  to  Russia  for  —  something 
else ! " 

"Then  it  seems  I  must  begin  and  tell  you  all.  The 
prince  was  suspected  from  the  outset;  gave  himself 
up  in  a  strange  sort  of  bravado,  and  has  lain  ever 
since  in  a  dungeon  as  horrible  as  could  be  found. 
The  Tzar  gave  the  matter  to  the  Council,  but  would 
not  sign  the  verdict  they  brought  in  because  the  war- 
rant was  not  accompanied  by  every  signature.  The 
prince,  you  know,  is  a  bosom-friend  of  the  Tzar,  and 
on  inquiry  his  Royal  Highness  learned  that  several 
in  the  Council  believed  that  in  some  strange  way  the 
man  was  innocent.  You  almost  got  your  own  foot 
into  a  warm  spot  there,  for  your  sudden,  mysterious, 
and  unaccountable  departure  led  many  to  say,  '  Gen- 
eral Wolzonn  had  a  hand  in  it.'  But  the  prince  him- 
self swore  for  you  that  if  his  wife  had  a  true  friend  in 
the  world  it  was  General  Wolzonn,  and  sadly  injured 
his  own  cause  by  saying  to  the  Tzar,  before  the  Coun- 
cil, '  Your  Majesty,  if  it  lie  between  General  Wolzonn 
and  myself,  in  common  sense  let  the  condemnation 
rest  on  me.'  Fortunately  it  was  found  that  you  left 
by  ship  the  morning  before  the  night  that  the  deed 
was  done ;  that  settled  it.  But  still  the  Tzar  would 
not  sign.  I  offered  to  find  you,  knowing  that  you 
were  the  nearest  relative  of  the  princess  and  intimate, 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL    EVIDENCE.  269 

hoping  that  you  might  throw  light  upon  the  matter 
that  would  save  the  prince." 

"My  dear  count,"  said  Constantine  Wolzonn,  "you 
have  said  too  much.  I  promised  unguardedly  to  go 
with  you.  From  sheer  blind  madness,  I  should  have 
gone  back  with  you,  and  said  to  the  Tzar  before  the 
Council,  'Your  Majesty,  I  think  he  did  it.'  Look  at 
the  burning  coals  of  fire  that  man  has  heaped  upon 
my  head  !  I  know  absolutely  nothing.  I  should  have 
had  no  reason ;  I  should  simply,  ignorantly  have  be- 
lieved he  did  it,  and  have  said  so,  knowing  that  it 
would  have  caused  his  condemnation." 

"Then  I  have  had  my  labor  for  my  pains,  Gen- 
eral Wolzonn.  Were  the  evidences  doubled  and  tre- 
bled what  they  are,  —  were  the  prince  himself  to 
swear  'I  did  it,'  —  I  would  still  believe,  aye,  kno-w, 
that  man  was  innocent." 

"What  are  the  evidences?"  asked  the  fencing- 
master. 

"  Briefly  these :  It  was  on  the  night  after  the  day 
you  sailed.  For  some  strange  reason,  Leo,  my  lady's 
private  valet,  in  her  name  ordered  the  butler  to  keep 
the  servants  all  in  their  quarters  till  he  came  and 
called  them  ;  it  was  just  after  sundown.  Ten  o'clock 
came,  and  he  had  not  returned.  Some  of  them  stole 
out.  The  castle  was  black  ;  not  a  light  in  the  build- 
ing. They  heard  strange  noises.  They  became  fright- 
ened, and  sent  down  to  the  village  for  the  priest.  He 
at  once  dispatched  messengers  for  an  officer  of  the 
police.  The  castle-grounds  were  searched,  when  no 
one  was  found  in  the  castle,  and  Leo  was  found 
stabbed  and  dying  in  a  clump  of  trees  .it  the  lower 
corner  of  the  lawn  upon  the  highway.  As  he  died 


270  CASTLE   FOAM. 

he  gasped  a  dozen  times,  '  He  did  it !  he  did  it !  He 
has  taken  her  away,  and  he  will  kill  her  too  ! '  Then 
they  searched  the  castle  more  carefully.  Her  lady- 
ship's room  was  a  mass  of  disorder.  No  one  could 
doubt  that  it  had  been  the  scene  of  a  struggle.  To 
my  mind,  that  is  the  least  of  evidence  against  the 
prince ;  for  had  it  been  a  strong  man  instead  of  a 
woman,  he  could  have  done  what  he  chose  with  him 
without  a  struggle.  There  were  blood-stains  on  the 
floor  and  bed-curtains.  The  prince  was  found  lying 
on  his  face  upon  the  floor.  There  were  blood-stains 
on  the  door,  on  his  hands,  and  even  his  dagger  — 
a  terrible  evidence,  I  confess  —  was  wet  with  blood. 
He  may  have  killed  Leo  under  some  provocation. 
He  wore  a  heavy  fur  pelisse,  and  high-  boots  which 
were  besmeared  with  mud.  They  thought  he  slept; 
but  when  the  room  was  well  rilled,  he  sprang  to  his 
feet,  exclaiming,  'She  has  gone.  I  know  it  well. 
You  need  not  come  howling  it  in  my  ears.  Get  you 
away  to  your  beds.  It  is  useless  to  look  for  her. 
You  will  not  see  her  any  more.'  And  because  the 
man  nearest  him  did  not  obey,  almost  before  he  had 
ceased  speaking  he  took  him  in  one  hand,  and,  as  I 
live,  hurled  him  through  the  open  door,  twenty  feet 
away,  before  he  touched  the  floor.  The  next  day  the 
princess's  marriage-ring  was  found  in  possession  of  a 
rag-picker,  and  that,  too,  was  stained  with  blood." 

"  Such  evidence,  I  should  think,  would  surely  con- 
vict a  man,"  said  Constantine  Wolzonn  bitterly,  for 
the  thought  of  such  scenes  as  must  have  shut  earth 
from  the  eyes  of  his  cousin  roused  anew  the  anger  of 
his  life  against  the  Prince  Reppoun,  notwithstanding 
that  man's  magnanimity. 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL    EVIDENCE.  271 

"Then  you  will  not  go  back?"  the  count  asked, 
though  sadly,  for  being  a  warm  friend  of  Prince  Rep- 
poun,  he  had  hoped  for  his  salvation  through  General 
Wolzonn. 

"Not  till  after  this  matter  is  settled,  no.  But  then 
I  will  go,  and  present  myself  to  the  Tzar  and  Council, 
for  I  too  am  in  need  of  punishment.  I  too  am  a  mur- 
derer, I  am  an  abductor,  I  am  a  harborer  of  deserters 
from  the  Russian  army.  I  !  who  have  lived  for  thirty 
years  upon  the  government."  You  stare,  my  dear 
count.  You  think  I  am  lacking  here."  He  tapped  his 
forehead.  "I  confess  I  wonder  I  am  not,  after  what 
I  have  been  through  ;  but  that  is  precisely  what  I  am 
going  to  say  to  the  Tzar,  and  personally  ask  for  my 
punishment." 

"Do  you  know  -what  the  punishment  would  be?" 

"Siberia  for  any  one  of  the  three." 

"Upon  my  soul,  I  believe  you  are  a  little  lacking, 
General  Wolzonn.  Why,  such  a  man  would  be  a 
very  devil ;  you  are  looked  upon  throughout  the  army 
as  a  saint,  and  you  know  the  Tzar  thinks  so.  How 
did  you  commit  all  these  crimes?  Come,  tell  me  as  a 
friend.  I  swear  my  lips  together."  He  made  the 
sign  of  the  cross. 

"  I  will  bind  no  man  by  the  simplest  promise,  friend. 
I  have  suffered  too  much  myself  by  being  bound. 
But  I  will  clinch  my  resolution  to  go  before  the  Tzar 
by  making  now  a  clean  confession.  First,  this  vile 
right  hand  of  mine  killed  the  Count  von  Kramareff." 

"  Some  two-and-thirty  years  ago?  "  asked  the  count. 

"  Yes." 

"And  what  of  it?"  he  asked  again. 

"  What  of  it !     Why,  man,  I  am  a  murderer  1 " 


272  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"  A  murderer,  and  looking  toward  Siberia  ?  " 

"  Looking  toward  Siberia." 

"  And  is  it  beyond  your  comprehension  that  every 
nobleman  of  age  in  Petersburg,  who  knows  that  you 
killed  Count  Kramareff,  knows  that  you  killed  a  traitor 
to  the  crown,  the  very  night  he  was  plotting  the  assassi- 
nation of  the  Royal  Adjutant,  and  that  it  is  recorded 
in  the  council  records  that  for  that  deed  you  were 
made  a  major?  Can  a  man  be  sent  to  Siberia  for 
that?" 

Constantine  Wolzonn  stared  at  him  with  open  mouth 
and  eyes.  At  last  he  began  mechanically  with  his 
second  crime. 

"  But  I  stole  a  child  ;  I  was  forced  to  it.  I  know  not 
to  this  day  who  or  what  she  was.  I  was  directed  to 
go  to  a  ship  that  was  coming  to  the  wharf.  I  obeyed 
one  whom  I  considered  my  master.  A  very  lying 
fiend !  The  captain  gave  me  a  child,  wrapped  in  a 
basket.  I  started  with  her  from  St.  Petersburg  by 
post.  I  met  a  man  who  had  deserted  General  Kra- 
mareff's  brigade.  I  told  him  to  take  the  child  and 
care  for  her,  and  that  for  it  I  would  support  her,  start 
him  in  business,  and  let  him  go  free  from  punish- 
ment." 

"  You  stole  a  child  ?  " 

"  I  did." 

"  And  for  that  are  looking  toward  Siberia?  " 

"lam." 

"  How  do  you  know  you  stole  her?  " 

"  I  took  her." 

"The  captain  gave  her  to  you?  " 

"  He  did." 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL,    EVIDENCE.  273 

"Did  any  one  miss  her?  Was  any  search  made 
for  her  that  you  endeavored  to  conceal  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  so  much  as  know  who  she  was  or  from 
whom  she  came." 

"  And  yet  you  stole  her?  That  is  absurd  !  Can  a 
man  be  sent  to  Siberia  for  stealing  a  child,  when  the 
child  is  given  to  him,  and  he  is  asked  to  care  for  her? 
The  patrons  of  our  orphan  asylum  must  be  bitter 
knaves." 

"But  the  deserter!"  said  Constantine  Wolzonn, 
with  a  look  of  bewildered  wonder,  like  a  child  before 
a  conjurer. 

"Perhaps  your  supporting  him  was  criminal,  per- 
haps it  was  not.  You  did  not  aid  him  to  escape.  You 
did  not  help  him  hide  himself,  or  try  to  conceal  him. 
You  failed  to  report  him  to  be  sure,  but  how  long  ago 
was  it?" 

"Twenty-seven  years  ago.  The  girl  was  nearly 
three  years  old,  a  tiny  little  thing." 

"Twenty-seven  years  ago  you  failed  to  report  a 
deserter.  Why,  man  !  but  seven  years  ago  your  name 
was  lauded  all  over  Russia  as  the  right  hand  that 
lifted  Nicholas  to  his  throne.  For  it  he  made  you  a 
general.  Could  a  failure,  as  a  boy,  to  report  a  de- 
serter be  raked  up  from  twenty  years  before  that  time 
to  drive  you  to  Siberia?" 

Constantine  Wolzonn  was  nonplused.  Faintly  he 
murmured,  "  What  a  fool  I  have  been  !  " 

"Just  so,  General  Wolzonn,"  said  the  count,  "you 
have  been  a  very  fool !  And  many  a  man  is  by  his 
conscience  made  a  fool,  because  against  his  con- 
science he  has  made  himself  a  knave." 

Constanline  Wolzonn  was  in  no  mood  to  be  made 
18 


274  CASTLE    FOAM. 

angry  by  such  plain,  friendly  talk.  It  was  too  true. 
He  knew  it,  and  confessed  it.  It  mattered  little  for 
his  conscience'  sake  whether  the  deeds  he  had  done, 
clearly  believing  them  to  be  crimes  against  God  and 
man,  were  punishable  in  the  courts  below,  they  surely 
were  above.  Nevertheless  he  was  much  relieved,  for 
while  his  resolution  for  a  better  life  remained  the  same, 
a  resolution  made  many  times  before  in  words,  but 
never  with  the  true  will  till  he  had  saidj  "  I  will  go 
back  with  you  to  Russia,"  he  would  now  be  able  to 
put  into  effect  under  a  much  more  favorable  sun. 

Long  and  earnest!}7  the  two  friends  conversed  to- 
gether over  the  sad  horror  of  Castle  Foam,  and  not 
without  bitter  shudders,  clutchings  of  his  fists,  and 
grindings  of  his  teeth,  did  the  fencing-master  revert  to 
the  prince,  who,  dungeoned  in  the  snow-bound  Rus- 
sian capital,  had  need  of  anything  but  bitter  thoughts 
of  vengeance. 

The  Emperor's  Prison  is  a  bad  enough  place  to-day  ; 
it  was  an  infinitely  worse  place  then.  Lake  Liman's 
Chillon,  Paris's  Conciergerie,  Constantinople's  Gate 
of  Hell,  and  Venice's  over  the  Bridge  of  Sighs  from 
the  Ducal  Palace,  were  all  combined  in  it. 

Five-and-twenty  feet  under  the  ground-level  a  dun- 
geon floor  of  solid  stone  was  laid.  Far  upon  the 
arched  roof  a  narrow  slit  in  the  rock  was  made  to 
admit  a  finger-breadth  of  light  and  air ;  but  even  that 
was  so  shielded  to  prevent  communication  from  the 
outside,  that  high  noon  was  dim  twilight,  and  the 
longest  day  not  over  four  or  five  hours  at  the  most. 
This  was  the  strongest  and  deepest  dungeon  of  the 
prison,  and  over  it  that  blood-chilling  motto  was  in- 
scribed :  "  JLasciate  ogni  speranga,  vol  c/i  entrate" 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL    EVIDENCE.  275 

Even  this  was  not  enough  to  enforce  the  will  of  the 
law  upon  criminals,  and  in  the  center  of  the  room,  to 
a  heavy  block  sunk  in  the  floor,  an  iron  ring  was 
welded;  to  this,  by  unusually  heavy  chains  upon  his 
wrists  and  ankles,  the  Prince  von  Meerschaum  was 
bound.  The  Tzar  was  indeed  his  friend,  and  de- 
clared that  the  man  should  not  be  punished  while 
there  was  a  doubt  that  might  save  him.  Beyond  this, 
however,  he  could  not  go,  for  a  sovereign  is,  after  all, 
but  the  slave  of  his  subjects,  and  the  charge  of  the 
prisoner  had  to  be  left  entirely  in  the  hands  of  the 
jailer.  The  prince  and  the  jailer  did  not  agree  well 
together ;  the  prince  had  struck  him  in  the  face,  be- 
fore the  soldiers,  and  for  that  insolence  was  given  the 
dungeon  he  now  occupied. 

Hurled  from  the  pride  of  his  high  throne  to  such 
a  low  stone  footstool,  it  may  be  imagined  that  the 
prince  was  not  an  amiable  guest,  nor  easily  pleased 
with  the  familiarities  of  the  jailer. 

At  the  time  when  Constantine  Wolzonn  and  his 
friend  were  speaking  of  him  he  was  sitting  on  the  low 
stone  hassock,  his  head  buried  in  his  hands,  upon  his 
knees,  saying  to  himself,  as  many  times  before  : 

"What  is  it,  what  is  it  all  about?  Three  months 
I  have  sat  here  and  have  not  yet  found  out.  Did  I 
do  it?  Did  jealousy  madden  me?  Did  I  do  it  in  my 
sleep?  It  is  impossible  !  Did  she  not  tell  me  she  was 
going?  Did  she  mean  she  was  going  to  die,  and  did 
I  help  her?  Was  I  drugged  with  fury?  O  God  in 
heaven,  wipe  out  this  mystery  !  Why  could  I  not 
have  murdered  that  despicable  Dane  instead?"  He 
shuddered,  and  the  chains  rattled  on  his  arms.  "How 
the  chains  clank  and  clatter,  like  the  cables  of  a 


276  CASTLE    FOAM. 

ship  !  "  he  muttered.  "  How  the  lizards  run  from  the 
echo  as  it  climbs  up,  up,  up  on  one  side,  and  then 
comes  down  on  the  other !  I  wish  I  knew  whether  I 
were  a  murderer  !  Murderer !  There  goes  the  echo, 
and  the  lizards  run  from  it !  " 

He  wrote  upon  the  floor  with  his  ringer,  pronouncing 
the  letters  as  he  made  them  :"  MURDERER.  That 
is  not  a  long  word ;  no.  Not  many  a  prince's  tomb 
has  borne  so  short  an  epitaph.  My  chair  in  the  coun- 
cil-chamber stands  vacant.  I  see  it  when  the  jailer 
with  a  company  of  soldiers  takes  me  up.  My  boy 
Victor  will  sit  there  by  and-by,  in  that  happy  day 
when  he  is  independent  and  a  prince.  Poor  boy  ! 
He's  son  of  a  murderer  now,  not  son  of  a  prince  !  " 

It  was  so  still  in  the  dungeon  that  the  lizards  ven- 
tured even  to  run  across  the  floor.  They  started  a 
little  when  heavy  sobs  jarred  the  chains,  and  perhaps 
they  looked  and  wondered  at  tears  that  fell  fast  from 
eyes  that,  from  the  first  fair  pictures  of  earliest  boy- 
hood, had  not  known  what  it  was  to  cry. 

"Yes,"  he  sighed  at  last,  "I  suppose  I  am  a  mur- 
derer. I  confessed  it  to  the  Council  yesterday,  to  set- 
tle the  matter  in  some  way,  and  I  have  seen  my  last 
of  life  and  Russia.  Farewell !  farewell  I  The  blun- 
der of  an  hour  wipes  out  in  eleven  years  of  misery  a 
life  of  joy  and  then  wipes  out  the  blunderer.  A  whiff* 
of  dust  caught  up  by  a  passing  gust,  dropped  in  an 
instant  and  forever,  the  only  record  I  can  leave  be- 
hind me  is  the  record  of  a  murderer.  Ten  years 
ago,— 

"  '  A  still,  small  voice  said  unto  me, 
Life  is  so  full  of  misery, 
Were  it  not  better  not  to  be?' 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL    EVIDENCE.  277 

I  wish  I  had  listened.  I  wish  I  had  listened  to  honor 
first  down  by  Arantha.  I  wish  I  had  listened  to  jus- 
tice afterward,  and  loved  my  wife.  Who  under  heaven 
deserves  a  punishment  more  than  I?  And  what  have 
I  done  in  all  my  life  that  I  should  ask  for  absolu- 
tion?" The  jailer's  key  sounded  without,  turning  the 
bolts.  "  There  comes  the  jailer  !  "  he  said  with  a  hard, 
metallic  laugh,  "  comes  with  his  armed  soldiers  to  take 
me  chained  before  the  Council !  What  fearful  cow- 
ards mortals  are  ! " 

The  door  opened  wide  enough  for  Heinrich  Char- 
lovitz  to  enter,  then  closed  again.  The  priest  seated 
himself  close  in  the  corner  by  the  door,  upon  a  narrow 
stone  bench  that  surrounded  the  cell.  The  prisoner's 
head  still  rested  in  his  hands.  Father  Charlovitz 
shuddered.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had  visited  the 
prince.  He  looked  suspiciously  at  the  chains  that 
bound  him.  He  examined  every  link  that  he  could 
see,  as  if  fearful  of  a  flaw  somewhere  in  their  manu- 
facture. Why  should  he,  of  all  men,  fear  a  flaw,  he, 
the  friend  of  Prince  Reppoun  ? 

Timidly  he  asked,  "  May  I  speak  with  my  lord,  the 
prince?  " 

Victor  Reppoun  made  no  answer  till  he  had  asked 
again,  then,  without  moving,  he  sullenly  replied,  "  So 
you  have  not  much  to  say,  speak  on." 

"Then  I  will  speak,"  said  Father  Charlovitz,  "for 
I  have  not  much  to  say.  I  will  only  tell  the  prince  a 
dream  that  I  have  dreamed  of  an  honest  man,  a  faith- 
ful servant  of  his  lord,  who,  when  in  the  act  of  one  of 
the  greatest  sacrifices  of  his  life  to  the  duty  he  owed 
that  lord,  was  caught  by  him,  beaten  like  a  very  dog, 
and  left  for  dead  without  assistance,  or  even  so  much 


278  CASTLE    FOAM. 

as  an  apology  ;  the  pride  of  his  life  broken  down  for 
doing  a  kindness." 

The  prince  shuddered  ;  the  priest  laughed  aloud. 

"  I  have  spoken  long  enough.  The  prince  becomes 
weary.  I  will  say  no  more,  except  of  the  vengeance. 
Did  the  prince  think  that  his  wife  had  been  murdered? 
No,  no.  He  has  not  mourned  and  wept,  as  I  have 
heard,  like  such  a  man,  or  I  should  have  come 
sooner  to  comfort  him  ;  to  tell  him  that  she  lives,  that 
she  is  happy  and  safe  in  the  arms  of  Count  Albrecht 
von  Bremen." 

The  prince,  writhing  in  every  nerve,  slowly  raised 
his  head.  The  priest  shrank  closer  into  the  corner, 
looked  again  at  the  chains  and  laughed. 

"  Yes,  yes.  And  now  for  the  sequel.  It  is  very  short, 
my  lord.  Those  are  the  hands  that  struck  a  faithful 
priest  while  he  was  serving  you  as  never  man  was 
served  before.  These  are  the  hands  that  by  scattering 
blood  and  confusion  about  the  castle,  by  dipping  your 
dagger  in  blood  as  you  lay  in  a  swoon  upon  the  floor, 
and  by  several  other  devices,  aided  by  Albrecht  von 
Bremen,  who  doubtless  killed  the  young  soul  Leo, 
bound  on  those  chains.  Now  I  am  satisfied.  By  a 
little  testimony,  which  I  propose  to  give  the  Council, 
I  shall  release  you.  But  if  you  are  not  satisfied,  be- 
ware !  By  another  word  I  can  thrust  you  from  Meer- 
schaum as  an  illegitimate  child  in  the  princedom." 

Slowly  rising  to  his  extraordinary  height,  the  priest 
continued  :  "Yes,  it  was  I  !  //  I !  who  did  it.  And 
now  I  hope  I  have  not  killed  the  prince  ! " 

"  You  did  it !  "  said  the  prince  slowly,  sitting  erect. 
"  No  !  Heinrich  Charlovitz,  I  am  not  satisfied!  " 

With  all  the  dormant  fury  that  lay  sleeping  in  his 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL    EVIDENCE.  279 

iron  frame,  the  prince  sprang  toward  the  black-robed 
hypocrite,  and  before  his  eyes  the  priest  saw  those 
heavy  chains  snap  like  glass. 

"Oh,  help!"  h  shrieked,  and  fell  senseless  on  the 
floor,  though  the  prince  had  not  touched  him. 

Victor  Reppoun  stood  erect,  folded  his  arms,  upon 
which  the  broken  chains  were  idly  swinging,  and 
smiled  on  the  prostrate  form,  saying  scornfully,  "  And 
still  they  touch  the  ground  when  the  Prince  von  Meer- 
schaum rises." 

Suddenly  the  name  had  again  assumed  its  dignity 
in  his  ears. 

The  door  swung  open.  A  dozen  muskets  were 
pointed  at  him,  and  as  many  swords  flashed  in  the 
light  of  the  lanterns,  but  not  one  man  crossed  the  sill. 

"  Come  in  !  come  in,  brave  men  !  "  he  said,  smiling, 
"I  will  not  harm  you.  Your  jailer  must  give  me 
stronger  chains,  if  he  does  not  wish  me  to  frighten 
my  visitors.  These  are  but  playthings." 

He  struck  the  broken  links  together,  and  the  echo 
went  up  on  one  side  and  down  on  the  other,  but  the 
lizards  had  long  before  disappeared.* 

A  voice  sounded  from  the  hall,  above  the  hubbub, 
"  Sir  jailer,  admit  me  to  the  cell !  " 

"  But  I  cannot,"  replied  the  jailer.  "  The  prisoner 
has  burst  his  chains,  and  is  meditating  some  great 
massacre." 

The  voice  said  again  :  "  But  I   am  bidden  by  the 


*  The  chains  that  were  severed  lie  to-day  in  the  relic  gallery 
of  a  Russian  prison.  The  writer  once  lifted  those  chains  in  his 
hands,  and  felt  of  the  links  that  were  twisted  and  broken;  and  a 
thrill  of  amazement  filled  him,  never  felt  before,  at  the  realization 
of  the  strength  that  lay  in  one  man's  arm. 


280  CASTLE   FOAM. 

Council  to  read  this  warrant  and  bring  them  an  an- 
swer." 

"Then  stand  without,"  said  the  jailer,  beside  him- 
self with  excitement.  "  Let  only  the  guard  go  in." 

There  was  a  flurry  among  the  guard.  None  of 
them  wanted  to  be  first,  many  would  rather  have  been 
last,  but  they  all  got  in  at  last ;  and  standing  on  a  stool 
in  the  doorway,  the  messenger  read  a  long  document. 
The  substance  of  it  was,  that  through  the  leniency  of 
the  Council  and  the  conviction  of  the  Tzar  that  the 
prince  was  not  guilty  in  spite  of  his  confession,  the 
punishment  determined  upon  was  as  light  as  a  punish- 
ment could  be.  He  was  simply  to  be  exiled  from 
Russia  and  deprived  of  his  title.  His  estates  were  to 
be  held  by  the  crown  for  his  son  at  majority.  He  was 
to  receive  an  annual  pension  of  ten  thousand  rubles 
from  the  government ;  but  if  ever  found  on  Russian 
soil  again,  was  to  be  treated  as  a  common  murderer. 
The  prince  never  knew  how  much  of  love  there  was 
wrought  into  that,  that  saved  him  from  Siberia.  He 
stood  with  folded  arms,  and  when  the  messenger  had 
finished  speaking,  said : 

"  So  I  am  free.  Freedom,  sweet  freedom !  And 
withal  I  am  only  an  exile  —  not  a  murderer.  Think 
of  that,  Victor,  when  you  hold  the  scepter  of  Meer- 
schaum. And  now,  .Cartaphilus,  thou  Wandering 
Jew,  thou  who  hast  well  learned  by  this,  come,  take 
my  hand,  and  show  me  how  to  wander." 

He  had  forgotten  that  he  was  not  alone.  Suddenly 
turning  to  the  messenger,  with  a  bow  and  a  half  smile, 
he  said,  "  Yes,  I  will  go.  The  generous  offer  of  a 
yearly  stipend  I  decline.  Sooner  than  eat  the  bread 
of  Russia's  charity,  let  the  silver  cord  be  loosed.  Bear 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL    EVIDENCE.  28l 

you  this  word  to  the  Council.  Tell  it,  I  will  go  away 
from  Russia,  and  carry  it  this  solemn  oath:"  —  he 
raised  his  hands  reverently,  while  the  chains  swung 
from  his  wrists,  —  "Never,  whatever  hap  may  tide, 
will  I  press  her  soil  again ! " 


282  CASTLJ3    FOAM. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

HEINRICH    CHARLOVITZ   AND   THE   BOY  VICTOR. 

SLOWLY,  very  slowly,  Heinrich  Charlovitz  opened 
his  eyes  to  the  daylight — sunken,  expressionless 
eyes,  over  which  the  lids  like  tissue  were  painfully 
strained. 

"Where  am  I?  what  am  I?"  he  asked  in  a  weak, 
hoarse  whisper,  instead  of  the  strong  voice  he  ex- 
pected, and  the  effort  caused  him  excruciating  pain. 
Suddenly  a  hand  appeared  from  the  shadows  that 
surrounded  him  ;  it  was  laid  on  his  forehead,  and  a 
voice  said,  "Thank  God,  the  worst  is  over,  and  you 
are  better,  good  father.  But,  for  mercy's  sake,  lie 
quietly,  and  try  to  sleep." 

This  last  had  been  called  for  by  an  involuntary 
shudder  and  cringe,  and  a  weak  struggle,  on  the  part 
of  the  priest.  Why,  he  did  not  know  ;  but  with  the 
hand  and  the  voice  coming  out  of  the  shadow  a  terri- 
ble vision  had  appeared,  of  grim  stone  walls,  ugly 
giants,  gnashing  teeth,  broken  chains,  and  a  fright- 
ful realization  of  some  one  not  well  satisfied.  From 
that  he  had  struggled. 

In  an  hour  he  woke  again.  The  mists  were  not 
so  thick  about  the  bed,  and  for  the  first  time  in  one- 
and-twenty  days  he  comprehended  that  he  had  passed 
from  the  dungeon  into  a  long,  terrible  fever. 


CHARLOVITZ    AND    THE    BOY    VICTOR.  283 

By  very  tedious  steps  he  climbed  up  toward  health 
again  ;  but  a  heavy  weight  pressed  hard  upon  him. 
His  face  and  form  never  regained  that  young,  strong 
grace;  and  when  his  black,  curling  hair  grew  again, 
it  was  loaded  with  silver. 

What  a  grim  pleasure  we  are  prone  to  take  in 
gloating  over  our  miseries,  only  to  make  them  more 
intolerable  !  This  feeling  caused  Father  Charlovitz 
to  repeat  many  times,  as  he  walked  with  his  open 
book,  that  passage  from  Virgil,  not  to  be  found  in 
the  Book,  beginning,  K Facilis  descensus  Averni,"  and 
ending  with  "hie  labor  est"  —  about  the  descent  into 
hell  being  easy,  but  the  climbing  up  again  being  very, 
very  hard. 

How  soon  children  learn  what  is  expected  of  them ! 
The  little  ones  of  Schaumburg,  that  used  to  leap  for 
joy  and  run  to  meet  him,  now  crept  away  behind  the 
trees  till  he  had  passed.  "He  is  so  sober  and  sad," 
they  said. 

The  priest's  young  wife,  wearied  out  with  watch- 
ing, had  fallen  victim  to  the  fierce  northern  fever,  and 
died  before  the  priest  returned  to  consciousness,  fol- 
lowed closely  by  their  only  child.  The  village  people 
said,  "  How  terribly  he  feels  his  loss  ! "  and  the  women 
prayed  and  wept  for  him,  and  wondered  who  his  next 
wife  would  be. 

"  For  man  looketh  on  the  outward  appearance." 

He  had  regained  sufficient  strength  to  conduct  the 
services.  He  entered  the  little  church  with  a  shudder. 
It  was  crowded.  The  only  vacant  seats  were  the  raised 
chairs  under  the  balcony  at  the  left  of  the  altar,  where 
the  prince  and  princess  and  Victor  used  to  sit.  All 


284  CASTLE    FOAM. 

the  village  had  come  out  to  celebrate  the  recovery  of 
Father  Charlovitz.  The  priest  stopped  by  the  cur- 
tain shutting  off  the  Holy  of  Holies.  He  looked  up 
at  the  vacant  chairs,  and  muttered,  "I  did  it."  Just 
beyond  them  was  a  beautiful  window,  the  gift  of  the 
princess  upon  her  marriage-day.  It  was  an  illumina- 
tion of  Da  Vinci's  "  Last  Supper,"  from  the  dilapidated 
chapel  in  Milan.  He  who  has  overturned  his  pot  of 
salt  seemed  to  the  priest  to  fix  his  eyes  on  him,  and 
nod,  and  smile,  as  who  should  say,  "  Come  on  ;  don't 
hesitate.  We  are  all  here,  brother."  He  was  trem- 
bling violently.  He  staggered  away  from  the  Holy 
of  Holies  ;  he  left  the  altar  and  went  out  into  the  little 
study  in  the  rear  and  locked  the  door.  There  was  no 
service,  after  all,  in  the  church  at  Schaumburg,  ex- 
cept an  offering  of  women's  tears. 

That  night  the  priest  looked  down  on  the  little  vil- 
lage from  an  eminence  behind  the  castle.  It  nestled 
warmly  in  the  valley,  a  black  shadow  in  the  broad 
field  of  snow.  Heinrich  Charlovitz  looked  till  tears 
shut  out  the  picture.  He  leaned  against  an  ice-cov- 
ered trunk  and  let  the  tears  have  their  full  satisfac- 
tion. 

"To  return  good  for  evil,"  said  he,  "is  God-like. 
A  priest  should  be  like  his  Lord;  but  I  have  not 
been.  To  return  good  for  good  is  man-like ;  I  have 
not  been  a  man.  To  return  evil  for  evil  is  beast-like ; 
I  have  done  more  than  that.  To  return  evil  for  good 
is  devil-like ;  I  have  been  a  devil.  Lo,  I  who  have 
preached  to  others  am  myself  become  a  castaway  !  " 

He  was  left  alone.  He  felt  alone;  that  all-alone 
loneliness  crept  over  him  that  stings  the  sensitive  soul 
sometimes,  when  apparently  reft  of  friends,  shunned 


CHARLOVITZ    AND    THE    BOY    VICTOR.  285 

by  strangers,  and  even  by  one's  self  deserted.  Home- 
sickness perhaps  it  is  ;  a  terrible  heart-sickness,  what- 
ever else. 

Heinrich  Charlovitz  knelt  in  the  snow  and  uncov- 
ered his  head,  alone  under  the  star-sprinkled  blue, 
and  clasping  his  hands,  he  prayed : 

"Oh,  save  me!  save  me!  Father  all-powerful,  if 
it  be  possible  ;  show  me  my  path,  and  I  will  walk  in 
it !  Show  me  the  sacrifice,  and  I  will  so  willingly 
make  it,  be  it  my  life  or  my  most  precious  Isaac,  that 
Thou  canst  have  mercy  upon  me  !  "  A  prayer  that, 
if  prayed  in  faith,  whether  to  saint  or  Saviour,  block 
of  wood  or  image  cut  in  stone,  could  not  be  left 
unanswered  by  Him  unto  whose  throne  stand  open 
twelve  different  gates  of  pearl. 

The  morning  was  slowly  breaking  ;  a  morning  star 
of  Hope  seemed  to  rise  in  the  heart,  of  the  prayer  that, 
though  cold,  dead  and  buried,  had  yet  urged  him  on 
to  wrestle  all  night  for  that  blessing,  on  the  hillside 
looking  down  over  Schaumburg.  A  voice  from  heaven 
seemed  to  speak  to  him.  He  raised  his  eyes,  and  sol- 
emnly replied,  "  I  will." 

He  left  the  village  behind  him  and  entered  the 
castle.  Victor  had  spent  the  day  before  there  with 
his  guardian,  preparing  all  his  little  worldly  goods, 
to  leave  in  the  morning  for  Italy.  At  sunrise  the  boy 
would  start ;  the  priest  must  bid  him  farewell  with  the 
customary  blessing.  Last  night  he  could  not  have 
done  it;  this  morning  he  thought  he  could. 

It  was  little  Victor's  own  will  to  go  to  Italy.  Gen- 
eral Wolzonn  had  returned  to  St.  Petersburg.  As  his 
friend  the  count  had  predicted,  the  Tzar  extended  to 
him  full  pardon  to  cover  all  the  past,  returned  his 


286  CASTLE    FOAM. 

commission,  and  as  he  was  the  nearest  relative  of  the 
little  prince,  appointed  him  his  guardian. 

General  Wolzonn  was  loath  to  take  the  position  at 
first ;  and  before  he  accepted,  visited  the  military 
school  where  the  boy  had  been  placed  four  months 
before.  The  winter  was  far  spent,  the  day  was  clear 
and  mild,  and  the  school  en  masse  was  enjoying  a 
mock  battle  with  snowballs  and  snow  forts,  much 
like  any  other  boys  in  any  other  part  of  this  wide 
world,  that,  after  all,  is  very  much  alike  in  all  its 
parts. 

There  had  risen  a  dispute  between  Victor  upon  one 
side,  and  a  smaller  boy  on  the  other.  Shielded  from 
observation,  General  Wolzonn  approached  and  lis- 
tened. "  Fight  it  out  with  your  fists,"  suggested  the 
largest  and  oldest  boy  of  the  company,  sitting  on  the 
top  of  one  of  the  forts.  "He  is  not  so  large  as  I," 
said  Victor,  looking  up  surprised  at  the  suggestion. 

"That's  nothing,"  said  the  big  boy.  "  He's  older 
than  you,  and  you  must  knock  him  down,  or  you 
lose  your  side.  Fight  it  out  with  your  fists." 

"  He  is  not  so  large  as  I,"  repeated  Victor.  "  If  that 
is  the  only  way  to  settle  it,  I  will  give  in,  for  all  I 
know  I'm  right." 

"  Fight  it  out  with  your  fists  !  Come,  be  quick  !  " 
shouted  the  boy  astride  the  fort. 

"No,  I  will  not  fight  it  out  with  my  fists,"  said  Vic- 
tor, stamping  the  snow  with  his  little  foot,  and  clinch- 
ing the  little  fists  that  were  not  ready  to  strike  a  boy 
smaller  than  himself,  even  for  the  bully  of  the  school. 
"  My  father  says  that  such  a  thing  is  cowardly  !  "  he 
exclaimed,  ((  and  I  will  not  be  a  coward!  " 

"You  are  a  coward  !  "  growled  the  big  boy,  disap- 


CHARLOVITZ    AND    THE    BOY    VICTOR.  287 

pointed  at  not  seeing  the  fight ;  and  not  satisfied  with 
that,  added,  after  a  boy's  fashion,  "and  your  father's  a 
murderer." 

Victor's  face  flushed  purple  in  an  instant.  He  spat 
upon  the  snow  —  among  the  peasants  a  significance 
of  utmost  scorn.  "  Lick  spittle  !  Dog  of  other  dogs  !  " 
said  he.  "  You  are  a  liar ! "  This  much  he  had 
probably  heard  among  his  father's  serfs,  and  repeated 
it  in  his  rage,  knowing  very  little  of  its  significance ; 
but  of  what  followed  he  meant,  every  word.  w  Come 
down  from,  that  pile  of  snow,  and  big  as  you  are  I'll 
make  you  wish,  for  saying  that,  I'd  never  come  here 
to  school." 

The  bully  hesitated.  Possibly  he  thought  it  was  not 
worth  his  while.  He  attempted  to  laugh  it  off;  but 
such  a  roar  went  up  from  among  the  boys  at  his  ex- 
pense, that  he  slid  down  from  the  fort,  and  at  the  first 
careless  assault  received  the  little  fist  fair  on  his  nose. 
The  blood  spurted,  and  the  boys  cheered.  But  the 
bully  was  thoroughly  enraged,  and  would  doubtless 
have  used  the  inexperienced  little  pugilist  roughly, 
had  not  General  Wolzonn  determined  that  the  affair 
had  gone  far  enough,  and  stepped  into  view. 

The  appearance  of  a  general's  uniform  sent  a  cold 
chill  of  awe  over  the  boys  of  the  military  school. 
They  all  sprang  into  position,  and  saluted,  all  but 
Victor.  He  opened  his  little  fists  and  his  little  arms, 
and  ran  forward  with  a  cry  of  joy.  As  he  looked  up 
into  the  officer's  face,  his  eyes  were  bright  with  tears, 
and  two  were  gliding  over  his  ruddy  cheeks.  His 
hair  was  cut  short.  How  changed  he  was !  He 
looked  ten  years  older  than  he  had  six  months  before. 

But  Constantine  Wolzonn  was  a  soldier  again.    He 


288  CASTLE    FOAM. 

only  held  the  boy's  hand  for  an  instant ;  then  return- 
ing the  salute  of  the  little  soldiers,  said,  "  I  want  to 
see  you,"  and  walked  away  to  the  house,  followed  by 
Victor,  to  the  envy  of  every  boy  in  school,  even  the 
big  bully,  who  was  r*iwn.  behind  the  fort,  wiping  the 
blood  from  his  nose  with  snow. 

"  I'll  thrash  him  nicely  for  that,"  he  said  to  one  or 
two  who  still  stood  by  him ;  but  he  never  saw  the 
child  again. 

Once  shut  up  with  the  boy  in  his  own  little  room, 
General  Wolzonn  extended  both  hands,  as  of  old  at 
Meerschaum,  and  exclaimed,  "Vic.,  my  little  prince, 
you  did  that  well ! " 

The  boy's  face  fell.  He  stepped  back  and  regarded 
the  officer  suspiciously. 

"  Why  do  you  call  me  prince?  "  he  said.  "  I  would 
not  be  a  prince  in  Russia.  I  would  not  be  the  Tzar 
and  live  in  Russia." 

His  cheeks  flushed,  his  lips  quivered,  his  eyes  shone 
as  they  had  on  the  play-ground,  and  he  stamped  upon 
the  floor  as  he  would  have  trampled  the  whole  Rus- 
sian empire  in  the  dust  had  he  only  been  strong  enough. 

"  Pardon  me,  Victor,  I  did  not  come  here  to  vex  you  ; 
I  came  to  talk  with  you.  I  have  been  appointed  your 
guardian,  and  I  do  not  want  to  take  the  place  unless 
you  wish  it." 

"What  to  do?"  asked  the  boy,  doubtfully. 

"  To  take  care  of  you." 

"  I  can  take  care  of  myself." 

"  But  if  you  are  sick  ?  " 

"I'll  not  be  sick ;  and  if  I  am,  mamma  will  come  to 
me.  Papa  would  too,  I  can  tell  you,  if  he  could." 

"  Aha  !  my  dear  boy,  I  am  afraid  —  " 


CHARLOVITZ    AND    THE    BOY    VICTOR.  289 

"  Stop  there ! "  exclaimed  the  child,  as  though  he 
were  a  man,  "I  am  not  afraid.  They  have  told  me 
dreadful  lies  about  my  father,  and  say  I  am  only  a  boy 
and  must  believe  them.  But  I  don't !  I  won't !  I 
never  will,  and  by  and  by  I'll  be  a  man,  papa  said  I 
should,  and  I'll  tell  them  what  miserable  cowards  they 
have  been  to  treat  my  father  so." 

"  Then  you  will  hot  go  with  me,"  said  the  officer. 

"Perhaps  I  will.  You  were  always  good  to  me. 
But  if  I  do  go  with  you,  and  you  tell  me  any  lies  about 
my  father,  I  will  kill  you." 

The  boy's  eyes  flashed.  He  was  in  desperate  ear- 
nest. The  officer  almost  wished  he  had  decided  not 
to  go. 

But  Victor  went  with  him.  His  first  choice  and  firm 
resolve,  winter  though  it  were,  was  to  start  at  once  for 
Italy,  to  see  the  paintings  he  had  learned  to  love  from 
copies  in  his  father's  collection,  and  to  find  there  his 
father  and  mother.  The  general  did  not  contradict  this 
hope  again,  though  the  boy  purposely  expressed  it 
many  times  in  his  hearing. 

"A  marvelous  boy  that,"  the  guardian  thought  to 
himself  at  the  military  school,  —  "a  marvelous  boy." 
And  many  times  thereafter  he  had  occasion  to  repeat 
it,  as  the  child  braved  the  tedious  journey.  And 
when  Florence,  beautiful  Florence,  had  been  reached, 
he  was  no  more  the  petted  and  petulant  son  of  an 
exalted  nobleman,  or  the  indignant  child  of  an  exiled 
prince,  but  a  new  creature  altogether,  as  he  found 
himself  standing  on  the  shore  of  a  novel  and  attractive 
element,  then  swimming  in  a  luxurious  flood. 

He  sat  day  after  day  in  unapproachable  silence  in 
the  great  galleries ;  more  often  than  anywhere  else, 


290  CASTLE    FOAM. 

upon  an  unpopular,  because  uncushioned,  bench  in 
the  corner  of  the  Tribune,  with  Guido,  Correggio,  and 
Domenichino  before  him,  and,  dearest  of  all  to  him, 
Titian's  lovely  Venus.  The  most  perfect  conception 
of  purity  were  those  two  lips  to  him ;  the  neck,  how 
delicate  !  the  shadow  of  the  chin  upon  it,  and  the  light 
veins  crossing  it,  how  exquisite  !  Life  lay  in  those 
lights  and  shadows,  and  his  ardor  knew  no  bounds 
while  he  was  watching  it.  And  when  the  gallery 
doors  were  closed,  many  a  time  he  had  wandered  up 
and  down  the  Lung  Arno,  and  far  down  the  Casine 
beyond  the  wall  that  fences  in  the  river,  and  lying 
on  the  grassy  bank  through  the  Italian  sunsets,  he 
would  watch  the  picture  still,  reflected  in  the  river.  - 

Once,  when  on  his  way  home  as  the  sun  was  sinking 
(it  chanced  he  was  without  his  guardian',  and  for  that 
went  earlier),  he  stopped  and  leaned  over  the  stone 
abutment,  just  below  the  Jewelers'  Bridge,  to  look  at 
the  picture  again  in  the  eddying  river.  His  knife  was 
open  in  his  hand.  Carelessly,  while  almost  lying  on 
the  broad  stone  cap,  he  began  to  chip  the  granite  with 
his  blade.  He  grew  excited  in  his  work.  His  cheeks 
were  aglow.  He  worked  eagerly,  and  as  the  sun 
dropped  down  below  the  river  he  drew  the  knife  away, 
and  with  bated  breath  looked  at  his  first  copy  of 
Titian's  rare  Venus.  Rude  enough  it  was  on  the  sand- 
stone wall,  but  beautiful  to  the  boy  as  feet  upon  the 
mountain  bringing  him  glad  tidings. 

He  remembered  the  easel  in  his  father's  library,  with 
canvases  upon  it  half  done  or  just  begun,  and  the 
brushes  and  palettes  daubed  with  paint,  just  such  as 
the  artists  used  in  Florence.  His  father  must  have  been 
an  artist,  though  he  had  never  thought  of  it  before, 


CHARLOVITZ    AND    THE    BOY    VICTOR.  2pl 

and  if  so,  he  himself  could  be  an  artist  if  he  tried. 
On  the  Jewelers'  Bridge,  just  midway  between  the 
river-banks,  where  there  is  a  break  in  little  shops  and 
the  river  appears,  he  stopped  to  resolve,  firmly,  un- 
changeably, that  he  would  try. 

The  general  found  it  useless  trying  to  dissuade  him. 
He  would  not  —  indeed  he  could  not  —  give  it  up. 
He  had  eaten  the  lotos.  He  was  as  passionately  in 
love  with  the  beautiful  art  as  his  father  before  him  had 
been  with  the  beautiful  Kathi.  The  guardian  in- 
trusted his  charge  to  the  care  of  an  Italian  artist,  who 
had  taken  a  strange  liking  to  the  boy,  —  a  man  of  abil- 
ity, who  was  to  instruct  him ;  and  of  common  sense, 
who  was  to  care  for  him,  —  and  having  received  the 
position  of  Russian  military  consul  in  Syria,  left  Victor 
in  Florence  to  establish  himself  in  Beyroot. 


292  CASTLE    FOAM. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

FREEDOM  AND   FETTERS. 

HOT  as  the  flames  that  licked  the  feet  of  Dante 
treading  the  path  "  Purgatorio,"  fell  the  dry, 
parching  glare  of  the  summer  sun  all  over  Egypt. 
The  Nile  flowed  silently  onward.  Its  yellow-white 
waters  creeping  languidly  along  the  steaming  banks, 
were  much  inclined  to  stop  there,  and  drying  up,  float 
off  altogether  on  the  dusty  air,  to  try  if  that  were  not 
a  less  wearisome  journey  to  the  far-away,  beautiful, 
dashing  sea,  whither  it  had  wandered  so  long,  and 
yet  had  only  touched  the  hem  of  the  flowing  robe  of 
lovely  Cairo,  the  Viceroy's  New  Harem. 

The  sleek,  shining  rats  ran  lazily  out  of  only  half 
dug  holes  in  the  bullrushes  on  the  bank,  to  sit  upon 
their  haunches,  fold  their  fore-paws  into  little  balls  of 
fur  to  wash  their  faces  with,  while  they  blinked  their 
bright  black  eyes  at  passers-by  on  the  road  from  the 
city  to  the  three  great  lower  pyramids,  in  an  indepen- 
dent way  that  seemed  to  say,  "Indeed,  I'm  not  at  all 
afraid  of  you.  You'll  not  take  the  trouble  to  kill  a  rat 
on  a  hot  day  like  this." 

Down  that  road  jogged  many  a  lonely  Arab,  his 
pack  upon  his  back,  his  turban  pushed  from  his  vein- 
less  copper  forehead,  his  lips  moving  in  pantomime  of 
speech,  repeating  passages  from  the  sacred  Koran,  as 


FREEDOM  AND  FETTERS.  293 

he  pilgrimaged  to  Mecca.  Often  he  would  stop  to 
wet  his  lips  in  the  sacred  river,  murmuring,  "  Bless 
the  Lord  for  water  !  "  as  he  moved  on  again. 

Beyond  lay  the  city,  and  through  the  great  arches 
of  the  bridge  the  old  palace  and  cathedral  were  vis- 
ible, their  domes  and  turrets  and  a  forest  of  tapering 
minarets  glowing  in  the  golden  glory  of  the  high  sun. 
Along  the  river-bank  abreast  the  city  half-naked  na- 
tives were  always  bathing,  in  compliance  with  the 
valuable  sanitary  laws  of  Mohammed,  while  up  the 
long  streets  behind  them  crowds  hustled  and  jostled 
the  livelong  day. 

Not  another  city  the  sun  shines  upon  has  such  a 
continuous,  motley  throng  from  all  the  four  quarters 
of  the  earth  as  Cairo.  There  the  naked  beggar  crowds 
past  the  sheik,  whose  proud  head  would  not  deign  to 
bend  to  one  lower  than  the  Sultan  or  his  Viceroy ;  and 
the  haggard  woman  with  her  bundle  of  sticks,  her 
dingy  body  clad  only  in  a  worn-out  petticoat,  brushes 
the  skirts  of  a  wealthy  European  lady,  whose  desire 
to  see  the  sold  sights  or  purchase  Eastern  clothes  and 
jewels  at  the  Oriental  street-corners  has  called  her 
where  the  houses  are  too  close  together  to  admit  the 
wheels  of  her  Western  coach.  There  the  proud  Turk, 
with  his  turban  of  green,  insignia  he  has  won  on  a 
pilgrimage  to  Mecca,  pushing  to  one  side  and  gath- 
ering his  robes  in  his  hand  to  avoid  their  catching 
upon  a  fruit-vender's  stand,  strikes  shoulder  to  shoul- 
der with  a  groveling  slave,  whose  features  and  color 
bear  still  the  lingering  imprint  of  the  original  Egyptian 
type,  brought  down  in  hieroglyphic  art,  and  whose 
cheeks  are  branded  by  a  hot  iron  with  the  name  of 
his  master.  A  huge,  broad-shouldered  chieftain  from 


294  CASTLE    FOAM. 

the  south,  a  black  prince  of  Zanzibar,  with  thick  lips 
and  heavy  forehead  sloping  backward,  a  broad  white 
turban,  and  white  linen  enough  wound  gracefully 
about  him  to  have  covered  a  small  army  of  his  naked 
black  vassals,  sits  cross-legged  on  a  cushion  at  a 
street  cafe  beside  a  slender,  pale-faced  Greek,  and 
.lights  a  tiny  cigarette  at  the  huge  nargile  which  the 
Greek  is  laboriously  smoking.  An  Egyptian  soldier, 
with  a  savage,  curving  sword  and  highly  ornamented 
gun,  brushes  carelessly  past  an  English  naval  officer. 
The  English  officer  turns  sharply,  mutters  the  Eng- 
lish curse,  and  stops  to  brush  with  his  silk  handker- 
chief the  spot  where  the  soldier  touched  his  uniform. 
An  American,  in  the  uniform  of  a  Turkish  officer  of 
high  rank,  hired  by  Mehemet  Ali  to  live  in  Cairo  and 
draw  a  governor's  salary,  steps  one  side  and  laughs 
at  it,  lights  a  cigar,  says  "  By  George  !  "  and  watches 
the  Englishman  while  he  brushes. 

Close  upon  this  display  of  national  pride  and  per- 
sonal importance  came  quite  another,  headed  by  a 
man  riding  on  a  gaily  dressed  donkey.  "Amahmcil 
JRuh  !  Amahmal  Ruh!"  he  cried  in  a  loud,  ringing 
voice,  as  he  rode  along,  which  meant  nothing  less 
than  "  Turn  out !  turn  out !  "  to  every  one  indiscrim- 
inately. Behind  him,  led  by  a  cord  fastened  to  his 
saddle,  was  the  lead-camel  of  a  long  caravan,  and  on 
the  back  of  the  camel  sat  the  chief  of  the  caravan, 
clad  in  the  princely  purple,  fine  linen  and  gold,  —  a 
proud  Ethiopian  from  the  desert  border,  bringing  oil 
and  spices  into  the  rich  market.  Before  his  approach, 
as  announced  by  his  crier,  market-women  turned  their 
raw-boned  mules  into  the  first  by-way,  while  money- 
changers' stands  and  venders'  tables  suffered  frofn  the 


FREEDOM  AND  FETTERS.  295 

unceremonious  hurry,  and  donkey-boys,  with  a  punch 
and  a  yell,  turned  their  beasts  about,  regardless  as  to 
whose  toes  they  trod  upon ;  for  might  made  right  in 
those  days  in  the  streets  of  Cairo,  and  they  are  not 
very  different  to-day,  when  the  weaker  must  turn  out 
for  the  stronger,  because  the  streets  are  not  wide 
enough  for  them  to  pass. 

"Amahmal  Ruh!  Amahmal Ruh  !  "  cried  the  donkey- 
rider,  as  a  man  on  horseback  approached,  when  even 
the  American,  Egyptian,  and  proud  English  naval 
officer  had  stepped  into  alleys  to  let  the  greater  man 
than  they  go  past. 

"Amahmal!  Amahmal!  "  shouted  the  rider  on  horse- 
back, in  a  voice  that  made  the  black  sheik  in  the  cafe 
start  and  the  Greek  drop  the  tube  of  his  nargile,  while 
the  English  officer  looked  at  the  American  and  said 
"Damn!"  and  the  American  blew  a  wreath  of  smoke 
into  the  air,  sent  a  low  whistle  through  it,  and  said 
"  By  George  ! "  for  there  was  but  one  alley  leading 
from  the  narrow  street  between  the  horse  and  the 
donkey.  Either  the  horse  or  the  caravan  must  turn 
down  that  way,  and  the  rider  on  horseback  virtually 
shouted  "  Turn  out  yourself  !  " 

.  The  leader  on  the  donkey  looked  back  at  the  chief- 
tain, over  whose  dark  face  an  angry  flush  spread  a 
richer  glow.  He  rose  upon  one  knee  on  his  cam- 
el's back,  and  in  as  deep  a  stentorian  voice  as  ever 
broke  the  monotonous  vociferations  of  the  street,  cried, 
"Amahmal  Ruh  !  " 

He  might  as  well  have  warned  the  west  wind  to 
turn  its  course  for  him  ;  and  as  he  threw  his  gun  to 
his  shoulder  the  stranger  dashed  a  pistol  from  his 


296  CASTLE    FOAM. 

belt.  They  flashed  together  —  a  single  report  from 
the  two  weapons. 

A  wild  cry  rent  the  air  ;  a  cloud  of  purple,  fine  linen 
and  gold,  a  turban  and  sandals,  and  a  writhing  Ethi- 
opian chieftain  fell  into  the  filthy  gutter  of  the  nar- 
row street. 

The  English  officer  pressed  forward  with  a  "Damn" 
upon  his  lips  ;  the  American  pushed  to  the  front,  sup- 
plementing a  low  whistle  with  a  faint  "By  George  ! " 

When  quiet  was  restored,  no  one  thought  to  look 
for  the  bold  claimant  of  the  path.  He  had  gone; 
but  why  should  he  not?  The  caravan  would  not  turn 
out  for  him.  He  had  dared  dispute  the  way  and  turn 
the  leader  into  the  gutter.  Why  should  he  not  have 
been  satisfied  and  gone?  It  was  fairly  done,  and  the 
world  went  on  as  before.  He  was  a  white-faced 
stranger,  dressed  in  Oriental  robes,  and  mounted  on 
as  fine  a  coal-black  horse  as  ever  trod  the  ground. 
This  much  they  knew,  and  let  the  rest  go  by. 

But  the  coal-black  horse  had  been  given  to  a  ser- 
vant of  the  Hotel  du  Nil  a  little  later,  and  the  white- 
faced  stranger  in  Oriental  robes  had  entered  the 
court. 

A  beautiful  court  was  that  of  Hotel  du  Nil,  almost 
as  fine  as  it  is  to-day,  covering  an  acre  of  ground  with 
winding  walks  paved  in  white  marble  that  shone  as 
though  the  "  Epiphany  "  frosts  of  Russia  covered  them, 
interlacing  gardens  where  in  only  tropical  profusion  ap- 
peared every  gorgeous  color  of  the  earth.  A  fountain 
trickled  in  the  midst  of  each  garden,  and  in  the  center 
of  the  court  stood  a  royal  pavilion,  built  in  the  form 
of  a  pagoda,  and  supplied  with  divans,  punkas,  papers, 
tables,  and  a  limited  collection  of  books. 


FREEDOM  AND  FETTERS.  2p7 

The  proprietor  saw  the  man  enter  and  hurried  to  meet 
him,  removing  his  little  red  cap  and  bowing  very  low. 

"Have  you  enjoyed  your  ride,  monsieur?  I  hope 
this  warm  weather  will  not  drive  you  away  from  us," 
he  said,  then  noticing  the  face  before  him  he  ex- 
claimed, "  But  why  does  the  monsieur  look  so  pale 
to-day?  Mon  Dieu !  mon  Dieu !  mon  Dieu !  what 
is  the  matter  with  the  arm?  Gracious  me!  it  drips 
with  blood." 

He  had  scarcely  arranged  his  guest,  with  almost 
a  mother's  tenderness,  in  his  apartments,  ordered 
the  servants  to  remain  in  waiting,  placed  wine  and  i\ 
dish  of  his  most  delicious  fruit  before  him,  and  sent 
three  servants,  offering  gold  to  the  one  who  should 
first  appear  with  an  English,  French,  or  German  doc- 
tor, when  called  away  to  meet  some  new  arrivals. 

It  was  a  monsieur  and  madame  of  middle  age,  who 
came,  the  man  a  little  beyond  it ;  a  servant  or  two,  and 
a  hand-bag  or  two. 

"Will  these  rooms  please  you,  monsieur?"  asked 
the  polite  proprietor,  bowing  and  showing  his  goods. 

"  H'm  —  if  we've  no  complaints  to  make,  your  busi- 
ness is  to — er — er — yes,  to  hold  your  tongue." 

"As  you  please,  monsieur,"  said  the  proprietor,  who 
was  strictly  a  man  of  business,  even  to  smiling  and 
bowing  when  spit  upon. 

"Exactly  so,"  returned  the  other,  in  not  an  over- 
amiable  mood. 

"  And  for  how  long  shall  you  be  pleased  to  occupy 
them  ?  " 

"For  a  lifetime  —  yes  —  or  a  day,  if  at  all,"  re- 
turned the  other. 

The  proprietor  was   becoming    sadly  bruised,  but 


2p  CASTLE    FOAM. 

mustered  a  smile  to  ask,  "  Shall  I  send  for  the  bag- 
gage?" 

"  H'm  —  well  —  yes,  I  think — er —  I  think  not.  If 
you  will  allow  me,  I  will — er — yes,  I  will  go  for  it 
myself,  or  send." 

This  was  said  with  a  low  bow  and  satanic  smile  on 
the  part  of  the  guest. 

"As  you  please,  sir." 

"  Exactly  so." 

"Is  there  anything  else,  monsieur?"  asked  the  pro- 
prietor, with  his  hand  upon  the  door.  He  would 
scarcely  have  gone  back  had  there  been  anything. 

"  Oh — er — yes,  there  is  something  else,"  replied 
the  guest,  still  smiling.  ff  I  want  you  to  — er — er — 
to  get  out,  yes." 

The  proprietor  got  out,  without  so  much  as  a  bow. 
They  promised  to  pay  well.  He  could  not  afford  to 
turn  them  out,  but  as  he  went  he  commented  to  him- 
self, "A  queer  man  that,  and  a  beautiful  woman. 
Very  queer  !  Very  beautiful !  " 

He  was  no  sooner  out  of  the  room  than  the  guest 
locked  the  door,  and  turning  to  an  old  servant,  who 
had  shrunken  into  one  corner,  said,  "That  room  there 
is  yours  ;  get  into  it !  " 

This  party  disposed  of,  he  turned  to  the  beautiful 
woman,  who  had  stood  motionless  through  all,  as 
though  utterly  careless  of  all. 

"And  now,  madame,"  said  he,  bowing  and  smiling, 
"  are  you  satisfied  ?  " 

"Satisfied  with  what,  monsieur?"  she  asked,  not  a 
muscle  but  her  lips  moving. 

"  Oh,  satisfied  with  life  ;  satisfied  to  stay  where  you 
are  if  I  chance  to  leave  you  for  an  hour,  and  not  to 


FREEDOM    AND    FETTERS.  299 

start  off  on  a  wild-goose  chase  after  that  man  that 
became  an  exiled  pauper  six  months  ago,  and  long 
before  this  has  rotted  in  the  earth?  " 

She  did  not  cringe  or  shudder ;  the  time  was  past 
for  such  a  demonstration. 

"I  believe,"  she  said  slowly,  "that  this  place  is 
Cairo." 

"  It  is,  madame,  and  a  good  way  from  anywhere." 

"  Monsieur  von  Bremen  !     Yes,  I  am  satisfied." 

The  vicious  smile  spread  over  every  feature  of  the 
Dane's  face.  "At  last  she  yields  to  me,"  he  muttered, 
and  crept  toward  the  woman. 

"And  are  you  satisfied,  too,  to  give  up  that — er — 
that  — er —  that  other  — er —  "  He  put  his  hand  on 
her  shoulder. 

She  did  not  move.  She  did  not  even  turn  her  head. 
She  looked  at  him.  She  said,  "  Take  that  hand  off!  " 
He  took  it  off  as  though  she  had  stabbed  it  with  a 
knife. 

He  retreated  a  step  or  two,  then  shrugging  his 
shoulders,  extending  his  palms,  and  hanging  his  head 
upon  one  side,  he  said  softly,  "This  is  your — er — 
your  last  chance,  my  lady." 

"Monsieur  von  Bremen  !  "  she  said  sharply,  "  I  want 
to  know  about  Kathi  Chichkini !  You  know  !  I  saw  you 
start  when  I  called  her  name.  Where  does  she  live?" 

"  In  Italy,"  the  Dane  replied. 

"  How  long  has  she  lived  there?" 

"  Near  twelve  years." 

"  Is  she  married?" 

"She's  been  married  about  eleven  years,  if  I  re- 
member." 

"Has  she  never  in  that  time  been  out  of  Italy?" 


300  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"Not  for  an  hour." 

"  How  old  is  her  child?  " 

"  Near  about  nine,  or  a  little  more." 

"  How  do  you  know  so  much  about  her?  " 

"That  is  none  of  your  business,  nor  is  any  of  the 
rest  that  I  have  told  you." 

"I  expected  that  answer  some  time  before,"  she 
said,  with  almost  a  smile,  and  it  was  as  much  a  mys- 
tery at  that  moment  to  the  Dane  how  he  could  have 
answered  so  many  questions  coherently.  She  had 
sprung  upon  him  quickly.  Before  he  had  realized 
what  she  was  saying,  question  after  question  had  been 
propounded,  and  the  answers  had  slipped,  unaccount- 
ably, from  his  lips  while  he  was  gathering  his  senses. 
He  saw  with  regret  that  she  had  learned  all  she  wanted 
to  know.  He  would  gladly  have  denied  it  all  had  he 
dared  to,  but  wisely  letting  a  bad  matter  rest  where  it 
was,  he  repeated,  "  This  is  your  last  chance." 

"  Thank  Heaven!  "  she  sighed,  then  turning  quickly 
toward  him,  as  though  already  he  had  been  forgotten, 
she  replied,  "Then,  Monsieur  von  Bremen,  for  the 
last  time,  Obey!'1''  She  pointed  toward  the  door.  The 
smile  on  the  man's  face  became  a  desperate,  dare- 
devil glare.  He  began  again  to  approach  her.  She 
shrank  back  from  before  him,  and  caught  a  dagger 
from  her  bosom.  It  flashed  above  her  head. 

"Another  step,  Albrecht  von  Bremen,  and  this  is 
yours.  Beware  !  "  she  cried.  "It  waits  for  you,  mis- 
erable Dane  !  I  have  used  you  as  an  instrument  to 
accomplish  a  purpose.  I  have  failed.  Now  I  have 
done  with  you.  I  told  you  plainly  in  St.  Petersburg 
that  I  did  not  go  with  you  to  be  your  wife.  Sooner  a 
hundred  times  I  would  kill  myself,  but  it  is  not  neces- 


FREEDOM  AND  FETTERS.  3OI 

sary.  It  will  answer  every  purpose  if  you  are  killed. 
Beware  !  I  warn  you.  One  of  us  two  shall  not  see 
the  sun  go  down,  unless  you  leave  me." 

"  You  — er —  you  astound  me,  madame,  you  astound 
me,  and  I  begin  to  comprehend  you  now."  He  walked 
slowly  up  and  down  the  room,  but  did  not  venture 
again  to  approach  her.  "  An  instrument,  yes,  an  un- 
successful instrument.  Now  what  is  peculiar  about  it 
is,  that  an  instrument  is  precisely  what  you  have 
been  for  me  —  a  successful  instrument.  1  have 
accomplished  at  least  one  great  end,  for  which  I  be- 
came your  slave,  though  my  love  must  go  away  to 
feast  itself  somewhere  else.  When  I  flew  to  your  re- 
lief, and  sacrificed  everything  to  care  for  you,  your 
soft  hands  were  empty.  They  were  extended  to  me 
for  help ;  I  helped  you.  Because  I  did  not  do  more 
you  drive  me  away  with  a  knife.  Never  mind  !  Un- 
thanked,  unrewarded,  (except  as  I  may  reward  my- 
self," he  added  mentally,)  "I  go  at  your  command. 
Only  one  word  of  prophecy  I  venture  in  leaving  :  Be- 
fore ten  days  have  gone  you  will  wish  you  were  Von 
Bremen's  wife,  but  it  will  be  just  ten  days  too  late  ;  for 
I  am  never  coming  back  again.  Farewell !  I  leave 
you  thoroughly  freed  from  your  fetters,  thoroughly 
fettered  by  freedom." 

The  door  closed  behind  him,  and  Albrecht  von 
Bremen  was  gone,  gone  forever,  as  he  had  said. 
What  could  have  induced  him  to  come  back  again? 

The  princess's  hand  fell  to  her  side,  the  flashing 
dagger  dropped  from  her  fingers  to  the  floor.  The 
needle  point  was  buried  in  the  wood,  and  the  dagger 
swung  backward  and  forward  on  its  pliant  blade.  She 
tottered  feebly  forward  and  fell  into  a  chair. 


3O2  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"  What,  gone  !  "  she  moaned.  "Is  he  really  gone? 
Gone  for  ten  days,  did  he  say?  Who  said  it?" 

Her  eyes  wandered  aimlessly,  staring  at  one  object 
after  another.  The  fingers  traced  restlessly  the  em- 
broidery on  the  arms  of  the  chair.  "Where  is  Elise?" 
she  continued.  "  I  must  call  her,  she  must  make  a 
bundle  ready.  We  must  start  when  it  is  dark.  One 
hour  after  sunset  we  must  be  on  our  way  to  Peters- 
burg. What !  he  has  locked  up  all  the  money  ?  my 
money  !  Then  sell  these  rings." 

She  extended  her  fingers  and  looked  at  them.  Not 
a  ring  was  there.  They  had  all  been  sold.  A  strange, 
meaningless  smile  appeared  upon  her  face,  and  her 
eyes  wandered  again. 

"Yes,  we  must  walk.  We  can  do  it:  Russia  is 
very  large.  It  cannot  be  very  far  away.  We  will 
walk  till  we  find  it.  I'll  tell  him  the  Dane  has  not  so 
much  as  kissed  my  hand  since  that  evening  long  ago. 
Are  we  going  as  fast  as  we  can?  Are  the  ten  days 
up?  Can  he  overtake  us  again?  You  say  he  has 
come  home  from  Poland  ?  What !  and  brought  Kathi 
Chichkini  with  him?  Oh,  no,  Elise  ;  that  was  a  great 
mistake  of  mine.  It  was  all  a  great  mistake  about 
Kathi  Chichkini.  She  was  married  and  lived  in  Italy 
when  I  married  the  Prince  von  Meerschaum.  Don't 
let  me  forget  it,  Elise.  Are  we  almost  there  ?  The  road 

is  very  long,  and  it  is  almost  time time  for  — 

what  is  it  almost  time  for,  Elise?  It  was  a  terrible 
mistake,  a  terrible  mistake;  and  how  could  I  have 
made  it ?  Elise  !  Elise  !  " 

The  old  nurse  thrust  a  white  head  out  of  the  door 
at  this  unusual  summons.  "  Did  she  call  ?  "  she  whis- 


FREEDOM  AND  FETTERS.  303 

pered.  "Is  she  alone?  It  is  the  first  time  in  six 
weeks  if  she  is." 

Searching  the  room,  and  finding  that  the  lady  was 
alone,  she  ran  and  threw  herself  at  her  feet.  The 
princess  uttered  a  piercing  shriek,  and  drew  her  feet 
up  into  the  chair. 

K I  thought  you  had  gone  ! "  she  cried,  —  "  gone  for 
ten  days  and  forever,  and  were  never  coming  back  !  " 

"Gracious!  gracious!"  sobbed  the  nurse,  "don't 
you  know  me,  lady,  —  I  as  has  carried  ye  a  baby  in 
these  arms,  and  not  a  day  but  these  two  hands  have 
touched  you  since?  Don't  you  know  me,  lady?  don't 
you  know  Elise  ?  " 

The  princess  looked  at  her  wonderingly  for  an  in- 
stant, then  moaned  :  "  What  was  it  he  said  about  fet- 
ters and  freedom,  and  freedom  and  fetters?  It  was  all 
a  great  mistake,  'whatever  it  was,  —  a  very  great  mis- 
take, that  I  made  about  Kathi  Chichkini,  —  a  very 
great  mistake  !  Oh  !  go  away,  go  away  from  me  !  " 

"No,  no,  my  darling,  my  baby,  my  mistress,  I  will 
not  go  away  !  Oh  me,  she  does  not  know  me  !  It's 
an  o'erragged  path  she's  followed  to  find  this  madness 
at  the  end  of  it !  " 

While  Elise  sat  wringing  her  hands  and  sobbing, 
and  her  mistress,  paying  her  very  little  further  heed, 
sat  moaning  sentence  after  sentence  as  her  mind  wan- 
dered, the  proprietor  entered. 

"Madame,  this  is  most  unfortunate,"  said  he.  "The 
monsieur,  on  leaving  for  Europe,  paid  your  bill  only 
till  to-morrow,  and  told  me  then  to  look  out  for  my- 
self. Will  you  keep  these  rooms,  madame?  " 

She  stared  at  him  vacantly  a  moment,  then  shaking 
her  head,  replied :  "  It  was  all  a  very  great  mistake 


3O4  CASTLE    FOAM. 

I  made,  —  a  very,  very  sad  mistake,  —  and  there  is 
some  one  I  want  to  see  about  it,  and  some  one  I  don't 
want  to  see,  and  you  are  neither  of  them.  You  may 
go  away." 

"That  is  most  unfortunate,  madame,  and  I  will  go 
away  at  once.  The  monsieur  intimated  that  you  had 
neither  money  nor  means,  and  I  am  a  poor  man  work- 
ing hard  for  my  living,  —  that  is  all,  madame." 

"Oh,  will  you  go  away  !  "  she  cried,  and  fainted  in 
her  chair. 

Doctors  came  to  see  her;  but  when  they  learned 
that  the  strange  man  who  brought  her  there  had 
taken  off  everything,  even  the  trunks  containing  her 
private  wardrobe,  that  she  had  not  even  a  jewel  or  a 
piece  of  silver,  they  shook  their  heads,  said,  "It  is  a 
hopeless  case  of  brain-fever ;  she  cannot  recover," 
and  thus  left  her  to  the  care  of  Elise.  But  she  did 
not  die ;  and  to  the  endless  glory  of  that  proprietor 
of  the  Hotel  du  Nil  be  it  sounded  abroad,  that  though 
a  poor  proprietor  working  hard  for  his  living,  he  fur- 
nished those  two  women  with  a  small  but  comfortable 
room,  served  them  himself,  gave  them,  when  able  to 
leave  him,  a  receipted  bill,  and  paid  their  expenses 
to  Alexandria  upon  the  coast. 

The  princess  was  very  slow  to  recover  her  reason. 
Long  after  they  had  left  Cairo  she  was  often  not  at 
all  herself,  and  if  a  stranger  spoke  to  her,  oftener 
than  otherwise  'she  would  stare  at  him  for  a  moment, 
then  say  :  "  It  was  a  very,  very  sad  mistake  of  mine  ! 
I  know  it !  And  there  is  one  that  I  want  to  see  about 
it,  and  one  that  I  do  not  want  to  see,  and  you  are 
neither  one.  You  may  go  away." 

With  quiet  old  Elise  all  alone  she  was  more  her 


FREEDOM  AND  FETTERS.  305 

self,  and  rarely  showed  any  lack  of  comprehension 
of  what  was  doing  and  to  be  done,  after  the  long 
period  of  her  doubtful  recovery.  She  realized  her 
situation  perfectly.  They  could  not  get  back  to  Rus- 
sia. It  would  hardly  be  the  thing  to  do  if  they  could. 
She  had  left  her  husband  with  Albrecht  von  Bremen ; 
she  had  been  robbed  and  deserted  by  him.  No  one 
could  know  why  or  how,  or  the  circumstances  of  that 
strange  elopement.  Her  husband  had  been  exiled ; 
she  supposed,  possibly  the  Dane  supposed,  it  was  as 
an  illegitimate  child.  He  would  be  poor  ;  and  in  her 
present  state,  even  had  it  been  possible  to  find  him, 
she  would  be  a  useless,  heavy  burden  that  he  had 
better  do  without.  He  could  not  understand,  even  if 
he  could  believe,  the  motives  that  had  urged  her  in 
the  past.  He  could  not  love  her  in  her  pride,  much 
less  could  she  hope  to  be  loved  in  her  fall ;  yet  she 
loved  him  more  even  in  his  misfortune  than  she  had 
loved  him  in  his  power. 

Resolutely  she  said  :  "  Elise,  this  punishment  is  less 
than  I  deserve.  I  shall  bear  it,  thankful  that  my  just 
desert  has  been  withheld.  We  will  go  to  Jerusalem, 
if  we  can  get  there.  There  is  both  a  Catholic  and  a 
Greek  mission  there.  We  will  give  our  services  to 
God  in  return  for  his  goodness,  if  either'of  the  mis- 
sions will  accept  of  us."  And  the  house  she  had  been 
bound  to  honor  was  more  honored  by  her  then  than 
when  she  became  a  princess  in  Castle  Foam. 

Elise,  with  pure  animal  instinct,  seeing  the  trouble 
ahead,  had  gathered  everything  of  any  value,  even 
to  gold  buttons  from  her  lady's  underclothes,  and 
secreted  them  against  a  time  of  need.  She-sold  them 
at  Alexandria ;  sold  the  dagger,  too,  that  had  saved 

*2O 


306  CASTLE    FOAM. 

her  mistress,  and  with  the  money  bought  a  ticket  for 
her  mistress  by  ship  to  Jaffa,  the  port-town  of  Jeru- 
salem, while  she  herself,  poor  soul !  slept  on  the  deck 
when  she  slept  at  all,  on  the  unsoftened  boards,  but 
oftener  lay  looking  up  at  the  cold,  heartless  stars, 
from  her  comfortless  pillow,  a  coil  of  matted  rope, 
praying,  oh  how  earnestly !  that  the  good  God  above, 
if  God  at  all  there  were  in  heaven  who  was  not  always 
malevolent,  would  save  her  mistress  from  the  dread- 
ful lot  she  saw  before  her,  even  if  to  do  it  He  must 
take  her  away  to  His  bosom. 

But  the  ways  that  we  must  walk  in  are  not  our 
ways ;  the  paths  that  we  must  follow  are  past  find- 
ing out. 

Albrecht  von  Bremen,  too,  had  come  to  this  con- 
clusion, after  setting  sail  from  that  same  port  about 
six  weeks  before.  He  had  laughed  incessantly  all  the 
way  from  Cairo.  "Yes,  yes  !  "  he  had  cried  in  ecsta- 
sy, "  I've  had  enough  of  disappointment  and  misery  to 
merit  one  grand  success.  There's  a  hundred  thou- 
sand rubles'  worth,  and  I  fancy  more,  of  jewels  and 
gold  in  those  trunks  of  hers,  that  I've  been  looking  at 
and  longing  for,  and  lugging  from  pillar  to  post  till  I 
could  throw  every  one  off  the  track  and  get  her  where 
she  could  not  get  home  again.  That  money  will  lend 
a  noble  hand  to  make  me  a  million  from  the  estates 
of  Meerschaum.  I  must  hurry  home  and  conciliate 
Charlovitz.  Doubtless  by  this  time,  after  having  done 
the  work  as  I  bid  him,  he  has  discovered  that  the 
bribery  was  all  a  fraud  and  a  forgery;  but  never 
mind.  If  the  work  is  done,  it  is  too  late  for  him  to 
undo  it.  Let  him  squirm  ;  who  cares?" 

Heinrich  Charlovitz  had  not  found  out,  however, 


FREEDOM  AND  FETTERS.  307 

that  it  was  all  a  forgery,  for  he  had  not  so  much  as 
opened  the  papers  to  read  the  directions.  The  smoke 
of  those  papers  had  risen  as  the  first  burnt-offering 
which  the  priest  made  after  his  recovery. 

The  clouds  hung  heavy  and  dull  over  the  Mediterra- 
nean sea  when  the  Dane  reached  it,  and  the  wind 
wailed  round  the  outposts  of  the  harbor.  Seamen 
shook  their  heads  and  pointed  windward,  where  the 
murky  clouds  were  piled  one  over  another,  a  red  and 
yellow  mist  filling  the  air,  the  Fata  Morgana  prepar- 
ing in  that  inland  sea. 

"  What !  "  said  he,  "  stay  here  a  fortnight  for  another 
boat  for  the  like  of  such  pretty  clouds  as  these  ?  Those 
waves  are  soft  as  wool ;  "  and  with  his  stolen  trunks  he 
sailed  away. 

Lower  hung  the  pretty  clouds,  until  they  lost  their 
beauty,  and  the  red  and  yellow  mist  became  a  driving 
gale  as  the  Fata  Morgana  broke,  and  the  soft  waves, 
with  their  white  caps  of  foam  looking  very  much  like 
wool,  made  the  ship  creak  and  tremble. 

But  what  cared  the  Dane  for  that?  He  who  could 
sleep  soundly  with  an  outraged  conscience  could  rest 
well  in  a  troubled  sea.  He  slept  till  a  little  past  mid- 
night;  then  he  woke.  What  woke  him?  —  a  creak- 
ing, a  shiver,  a  crash  !  —  and  every  beam  of  the  boat 
warped  and  trembled. 

There  was  hardly  a  shout  from  the  officer  on  deck, 
hardly  a  cry  from  a  terrified  sailor,  hardly  a  shriek 
from  a  strangling  passenger.  She  went  down  like  a 
ship  of  glass  to  the  lower  level  of  the  brigand  sea, 
shattered  by  a  rock  buried  in  one  of  those  wool-soft 
waves.  A  sailor  was  saved  by  the  fishermen  on  the 
island.  A  little  girl  was  washed  ashore  without  even 


308  CASTLE    FOAM. 

a  bruise,  protected  by  that  especial  providence  that 
looks  after  children ;  and  among  a  few  corpses  that 
had  been  given  up  by  the  waves,  just  one,  that  of  a 
passenger,  seemed  to  give  token  of  life.  The  fisher- 
men took  that  one  to  the  fire  they  had  built  —  had 
they  built  it  an  hour  earlier  it  would  have  saved  the 
whole  —  and  began  in  their  rude  way  to  rub  and  roll 
him  back  to  life.  By  and  by  they  were  rewarded,  his 
eyes  opened  slowly,  and  fell  first  upon  the  great  waves 
climbing  the  rocky  ledge  of  the  island. 

"  They  are  soft,  very  soft,"  he  muttered. 

Then  memory  began  to  dawn,  and  turning  to  the 
fishermen  he  asked,  "Was  the  old  ship  saved?  " 

But  no  one  understood  him  ;  they  were  red-skinned 
fishermen.  His  eye  caught  the  white  face  of  the 
sailor  telling  his  beads  on  the  other  side  of  the  fire, 
and  thanking  Heaven  for  his  deliverance  from  the  very 
mouth  of  the  grave.  He  spoke  to  him  in  Italian,  the 
foster-tongue  of  every  Mediterranean  manner. 

"Was  the  old  ship  saved?" 

"No,  no,"  answered  the  sailor  in  a  gloomy  mono- 
tone, and  told  his  beads  again. 

"Was  there  nothing  saved?"  asked  the  Dane. 

"  No,  no  ! "  was  the  solemn  reply.  Then  the  sailor 
went  on  in  reverie  :  "  Everything,  alive  and  dead,  but 
three  of  us  here,  have  long  ago  heaved  to  under  the 
lee  of  some  of  those  great  rocks  down  there.  St. 
Mary  save  their  souls  1 " 

There  was  no  more  need  of  rubbing  life  into  the 
drowning  man.  He  sprang  to  his  feet,  he  shouted,  he 
cursed  like  a  madman.  "Then  why  was  /saved?. 
Tell  me  that !  "  he  cried  and  tore  his  hair.  "  I  should 
have  been  almost  a  prince  in  Russia  but  for  this. 


FREEDOM    AND    FETTERS.  309 

Perdu !  Sacrc  lieu !  'Twas  surely  not  a  lack  of 
brains  that  lost  me  this.  'Twas  neither  brains  nor  no 
brains.  'Twas  luck  !  my  vile  accursed  luck." 

He  listened  a  moment  to  the  waves  that  had  ruined 
his  chances,  and  that  were  rushing  and  roaring  as  re- 
gardless of  him  and  his  misery  as  he  had  been  a  hun- 
dred times  of  the  misery  of  victims  his  intrigue  had 
wrecked  upon  that  treacherous  rock  of  friendship  trust- 
ed in  that  proved  untrue.  Then  a  grim  smile  crept  over 
his  face,  his  head  hung  upon  one  side,  he  shrugged 
his  shoulders,  and  his  eyes  half  closed  themselves. 
He  was  thinking  of  the  Princess  von  Meerschaum. 

At  that  unfavorable  moment  a  fisherman  thrust  be- 
fore him  a  rude  dish  with  a  hastily  cooked  fish  upon 
it.  The  Dane  struck  the  dish  and  fish  from  the  hand 
of  the  Moor,  and  sent  them  far  over  the  sand.  In  an- 
other instant  Albrecht  von  Bremen  was  lying  on  his 
back,  bound  hand  and  foot  with  strong  cords,  as  by 
magic  almost,  and  groaning  for  mercy.  He  thought 
they  were  about  to  kill  him,  and  after  all  he  did  not 
want  to  die. 

Thus  the  proprietor  of  the  Hotel  du  Nil  had  re- 
ceived and  discharged  again  one  of  the  last  parties 
of  the  summer  to  visit  his  house.  The  line  of  travel 
holds  late,  but  does  not  begin  early.  There  is  a  dead 
lull  through  the  last  of  July  and  the  month  of  Au- 
gust. No  one  visits  Cairo  again  till  the  middle  of  Sep- 
tember. The  little  proprietor  had  virtually  shut  up  his 
hotel,  but  not  entirely,  for  his  guest  with  the  wounded 
arm  was  still  with  him.  The  injury  had  proved  more 
severe  than  even  the  doctors  had  feared,  and  had  taxed 
their  utmost  skill. 


3IO  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"This  mends  very  slowly,"  he  said,  as  the  little  man 
entered  his  tastefully  arrayed  parlor.  He  always 
came  in  for  an  hour  and  a  cigar  in  the  morning.  "  I 
never  imagined  before  that  one  of  those  rattling  ape- 
tails*  could  do  so  much  damage." 

The  proprietor  laughed.  He  was  a  jolly  little  man, 
and  laughed  all  over. 

"But  you  are  better  off  than  the  sheik,  my  lord,"  he 
said.  "  I  fancy  he  did  not  think  a  little  pistol-ball  would 
do  much  harm ;  and  the  worst  of  it  is  he  will  never 
find  out  his  mistake." 

"  Have  you  heard  about  it  at  last  ?  Did  I  kill  him  ?  " 
asked  the  wounded  man,  evincing  after  all  but  little 
curiosity.  "I  fired  for  his  forehead,  but  I  was  sure  I 
should  miss,  I  fired  so  quick." 

The  little  man  laughed  again.  "And  did  my  lord 
ever  miss?  Your  ball  struck  him  so  fair  between  the 
eyes  that  he  never  breathed  after  he  touched  the 
ground.  A  Greek  student  was  telling  me  of  it  this 
very  day.  If  he  had  seen  you  when  I  was  your  dra- 
goman years  ago,  in  Syria,  when  you  followed  that 
band  of  black  Bedouins  from  the  Dead  Sea  to  the  ford 
of  the  Jordan,  all  alone,  with  one  small  pistol  in  your 
hand,  he  would  have  turned  out  for  you  without  your 
asking." 

And  the  little  proprietor  laughed  again. 

The  wounded  man  shook  his  head.  "  I  almost 
cried  then,"  he  said,  "for  every  man  I  hit.  I  shot 
them  in  their  legs  and  arms,  to  save  killing  them, 
though  every  one  was  doing  his  best  to  take  my  life. 
Times  have  changed,  or  I  have  changed.  The  world 

*The  long  barreled  flint-locked,  highly  ornamented  guns  used 
at  that  time  by  the  Turks,  in  which  they  fired  heavy  shot. 


FREEDOM.  AND  FETTERS.  311 

has  used  me  so  roughly  that  I  have  lost  all  respect  for 
it.  I  cannot  meet  to-day  with  a  show  of  authority 
over  me,  but  I  kick  against  it.  A  miserable  weakness 
in  a  man,  I  am  willing  to  confess." 

"It's  the  way  of  the  world,  my  lord.  It  hardens,  it 
suffers  from  what  it  hardens." 

"  I  think,"  said  the  wounded  man,  lifting  his  arm 
from  the  table  —  it  was  his  right  arm  —  and  putting  it  in 
the  sling,  "that  if  I  should  get  out  a  little  more,  in  spite 
of  this  heat,  it  would  be  good  for  me.  If  you  will 
have  a  carriage  here  sharp  at  three  o'clock,  I  will 
drive  down  to  the  pyramids." 

The  great  bell  for  arrivals  rang.  The  little  "pro- 
prietor leaped  from  his  chair,  and  tied  his  cravat  and 
re-curled  his  moustache.  Such  an  unheard-of  thing 
as  an  arrival  at  this  season  meant  news  of  some  sort. 
It  was  only  an  officer  come  for  a  day  or  two.  He  was 
passing  Alexandria  on  business,  he  said,  and  as  it  was 
now  or  perhaps  never,  he  thought  he  would  brave  the 
heat  and  see  Cairo  now.  He  was  given  one  of  the 
coolest  rooms  opening  upon  the  lovely  court,  ate  a 
lunch,  and  sat  in  the  open  door,  smoking  and  waiting 
the  cooler  afternoon.  It  came  at  last.  He  was  prepar- 
ing in  his  mind  how  he  should  turn  his  steps,  when 
the  figure  of  a  tall,  powerful  man,  dressed  in  an 
Oriental  costume,  even  to  a  curving  sword  and  a  red 
fez,  crossed  the  court.  A  strange,  unaccountable  chill 
swept  over  the  officer  as  he  looked.  The  man's  back 
was  toward  him,  and  he  walked  slowly,  but  the  new- 
comer stood  riveted  to  the  spot  till  he  of  the  wounded 
arm  turned  about  at  the  distant  corner  of  the  court, 
crossed  obliquely  through  the  summer  house,  and  left 
the  garden.  He  followed  him.  He  saw  him  enter 


312  CASTLE    FOAM. 

a  superb  coach,  and  the  horses  start.  He  hailed  an 
English  carriage  that  was  passing.  The  driver  was 
an  Arab,  but  shook  his  head.  He  was  evidently 
engaged  to  some  one  else.  The  officer  pressed  a  gold 
sovereign  into  his  hand  that  closed  convulsively  upon 
it,  and  motioned  him  to  follow  the  coach  that  had  just 
driven  away.  Gold  conquered,  though  the  task  was  a 
hard  one,  for  the  horses  in  the  first  carriage  were  fresh, 
strong  animals,  selected  by  a  careful  proprietor  to 
please  the  taste  of  one  critical  in  horseflesh,  while 
those  that  dragged  the  second  were  every-day  coach- 
horses.  So  it  chanced  that  he  of  the  Oriental  robes 
and  wounded  arm  had  reached  the  pyramids,  and 
sending  his  horses  away  to  shelter,  had  walked  down 
to  where  the  huge  sphinx  of  Ghizeh  lifts  its  flattened 
head  out  of  the  sand  drifts,  and  stares  with  eternally 
open  eyes  from  Cephron,  Cheops,  and  Mycerinus  far 
away  over  the  trackless  desert,  before  the  man  in, 
uniform  appeared. 

From  a  distance  the  officer  had  seen  him  go  down 
there  and  hurried  to  the  spot ;  the  sphinx  prevented 
the  two  men  from  seeing  each  other.  A  moment 
more  and  they  faced  each  other.  One  red  with  heat 
and  with  anger,  the  other  white  with  suffering,  mental 
and  physical. 

"  General  Wolzonn  !  "  exclaimed  one  with  a  smile. 

"Victor  Reppoun,"  said  the  other  with  a  frown. 

"Do  you  come  as  a  foe?"  asked  Victor  Reppoun, 
in  surprise,  looking  down  at  his  wounded  arm. 

"I  come  as  avenger  of  the  blood  of  my  cousip," 
said  Constantine  Wolzonn  sternly.  "  What  the  Tzar, 
being  your  friend,  would  not  do,  I,  being  her  nearest 
relative,  must  do.  I  command  you  draw  !  " 


FREEDOM  AND  FETTERS.  313 

Only  a  sharp  contraction  about  the  mouth  of  the 
exile  told  how  bitterly  he  felt  that  thrust.  He  offered 
no  word  of  explanation.  It  was  not  that  he  had  been 
charged  with  murder,  not  that  he  was  told  that  the  law 
had  dealt  too  leniently  with  him.  That  might  have  been 
explained.  The  general  was  an  old  friend,  literally 
a  bosom-friend.  He  of  all  others  had  good  cause  to 
be  charitable,  he  of  all  others  had  many  reasons  why 
he  should  forgive.  He  least  of  all  in  Russia  should 
say,  "  Let  him  be  punished  more."  Not  only  did  he 
forget  all  this,  but  in  the  vigor  of  strength  he  stood 
before  a  man  who  had  spent  nearly  two  months  upon 
a  couch,  and  whose  right  hand  hung  helplessly  beside 
him  in  a  sling,  and  said  to  him,  w  I  command  you 
draw  !  " 

"  Lo  blow,  thou  winter  wind, 
Thou  art  not  so  unkind 
Freeze,  freeze,  thou  winter  sky, 
Thou  dost  not  bite  so  nigh." 

From  the  sheer  animal  instinct  of  self-preservation, 
—  with  these  cutting  thoughts  of  being  forgotten,  of 
being  cursed,  of  being  challenged  under  such  circum- 
stances, —  his  left  hand  drew  his  sword  and  raised 
it  just  in  time  to  catch  the  officer's  blade  before  it 
touched  his  head.  Then  began  the  unequal  duel ; 
and  the  lonely,  sad-eyed  sphinx  up  above  them  was 
seconds,  judge,  and  umpire,  all  in  one. 

The  right  arm  as  it  hung  in  the  sling  twitched  ner- 
vously to  feel  the  weight  of  the  blade,  but  the  thing 
was  impossible.  The  prince  was  a  dexterous  fencer, 
and  the  left  arm  served  him  in  a  way  that  astonished 
himself,  and  caused  General  Wolzonn  more  than  once 
to  fear  that  his  anger  would  cool  before  he  could  gain 


314  CASTLE    FOAM. 

an  opportunity  to  strike  a  blow.  His  victim  parried, 
but  did  not  dare  to  thrust ;  possibly  he  did  not  want 
to.  In  an  unguarded  moment  he  stepped  backward. 
His  foot  sank  lower  than  he  expected.  Involuntarily 
the  left  hand  rose  to  restore  his  equilibrium.  Taking 
advantage  of  the  miss,  Constantine  Wolzonn  struck 
the  sword  from  the  other's  hand,  and  in  the  impulse 
of  the  instant,  the  spirit  of  his  murdered  cousin 
appearing  in  startling  reality  before  him  to  cry  for 
vengeance,  her  breast  made  bare,  a  dagger-hilt  pro- 
truding, just  above  his  head,  he  shut  his  eyes  and 
felled  the  Prince  von  Meerschaum,  unsworded  though 
he  was,  much  as  he  had  struck  Count  Kramareff. 
He  did  not  see  the  body  fall,  but  without  a  groan,  a 
heavy,  lifeless  weight,  it  struck  the  ground.  With  a 
shudder  the  general  sheathed  his  sword.  Mad  curi- 
osity dragged  his  eyes  once  toward  the  spot  as  he 
turned  away.  White  as  marble  and  perfectly  sense- 
less, the  prince  lay  stretched  upon  the  earth.  Not  a 
breath  or  a  last  sigh  moved  the  light  robe  that  crossed 
his  chest.  His  right  arm  had  left  the  sling,  and  from 
a  deep,  ugly  gash  across  his  temple  and  cheek  the  pur- 
ple flood  of  a  victory  lost  flowed  over  the  white  sand. 

"  She  is  revenged  !  "  said  Constantine  Wolzonn  as 
he  walked  slowly  away.  Was  he  happy?  Surely 
not.  He  was  a  soldier ;  in  some  senses  a  brave  sol- 
dier. He  realized  keenly  that  he  had  done  the  mean- 
est, most  outrageous  thing  a  man  could  do,  except  to 
stab  a  sleeping  enemy  in  the  back.  "Yet,"  he  said, 
"  'twas  nearer  equal  by  far  than  the  struggle  in  which 
he  drew  my  cousin's  blood." 

It  must  be  remembered  in  his  behalf,  that  in  those 
days,  in  Russia,  human  life  was  not  considered  such 


FREEDOM  AND  FETTERS.  315 

a  sacred  thing  as  we  hold  it  to-day,  if  occasion  offered 
to  take  it ;  and  the  old  law  of  an  eye  for  an  eye, 
which  was  still  strong,  demanded  it.  There  was 
nothing  in  the  moral  side  of  this  murder  which  could 
conflict  in  the  most  delicate  degree  with  the  reforma- 
tion that  was  still  the  end  and  aim  of  General  Wol- 
zonn's  life.  He  did  it  as  an  act  of  justice.  Doubt- 
less of  himself  he  would  have  refused  to  make  the 
attack  altogether ;  doubtless  even  he  would  much 
rather  have  avoided  it  —  have  warned  the  prince,  if 
that  could  have  been  done,  to  keep  out  of  his  way. 
But  how  could  he  be  the  man  he  longed  to  be,  how 
could  he  be  the  guardian  of  her  child ;  most  of  all, 
how  could  he  be  goaded  night  and  day  by  that  ter- 
rible vision,  the  pale  face,  the  extended  hands,  the 
naked  breast,  the  dagger-hilt,  the  blood,  and  leave 
the  murder  unavenged?  It  was  impossible.  "Ven- 
geance is  mine,  I  will  repay,"  was  seldom  heard,  sel- 
dom believed.  He  had  even  registered  in  a  church 
the  vow  that  Victor  Reppoun  should  not  cross  his 
path  but  once.  This  had  relieved  him  in  part,  and 
to  have  fulfilled  the  vow  and  drawn  the  dagger  from 
that  breast  completed  the  satisfaction.  The  sting  of 
the  cowardly  act  alone  made  the  sweet  draught  very 
bitter ;  but  the  vision  never  came  but  once  again,  and 
that  was  a  long  time  afterward.  Evidently  the  spirit 
of  the  murdered  woman  had  been  satisfied.  Imme- 
diately on  returning  to  Calcutta,  Constantine  Wolzonn 
left  for  Alexandria.  "  Too  hot,"  he  told  the  propri- 
etor, as  he  paid  his  little  bill,  and  in  Beyroot  formed 
for  himself  a  quiet  bachelor  home,  living  a  life  that 
exemplified  all  of  his  best  intentions,  showing  what  a 
model  man  he  could  be  if  the  sea  was  calm. 


3l  CASTLE    FOAM. 

He  heard  from  his  proteg£  with  each  mail-ship 
from  Italy,  and  from  the  artist,  of  his  growing  attach- 
ment for  the  boy,  and  of  the  ever  increasing  skill 
he  evinced  in  the  beautiful  art  that  had  taken  him 
captive. 

As  the  months  rolled  on,  the  little  Victor  improved 
so  rapidly  in  his  work  that  his  master  allowed  him, 
simply  for  encouragement,  to  paint  a  picture  for  the 
yearly  examination  of  amateurs'  beginnings  ;  at  which 
examination  the  best  two  were  to  be  selected  and 
hung  in  the  lower  corridor  of  the  large  gallery.  The 
artist  spurred  him  on  to  this  endeavor  with  every  en- 
thusiastic encouragement.  His  wife,  a  dark-haired, 
dark-eyed  beauty,  quite  worthy  an  artist's  choice,  had 
seriously  objected  at  first  to  Victor's  coming  into  the 
house,  and  had  at  last  but  reluctantly  consented,  — 
which  reluctance  did  not  die  out  with  time,  but  served 
at  least  to  make  the  artist  himself  more  kind,  more 
gentle,  more  thoughtful  to  the  fatherless,  motherless 
boy,  though  he  had  taken  pains  to  give  his  wife  no 
information  whatever  regarding  the  boy's  birth,  par- 
entage, or  future  prospects,  lest  it  might  in  some 
way  act  as  prejudice. 

Victor  told  the  artist  that  he  was  painting  a  Madon- 
na for  the  exhibition.  What  Madonna,  he  refused  to 
say.  The  artist  very  much  wondered  which  of  the 
reputed  Madonnas  he  had  chosen  to  copy,  and  what 
the  result  would  be,  but  stubbornly  refused  to  allow 
anyone  to  enter  the  boy's  little  studio,  which  adjoined 
his  own,  till  the  completion  was  announced.  Early 
and  late  the  little  enthusiast  kept  himself  upon  his 
work  like  a  master,  till  his  ruddy. cheeks  grew  alarm- 
ingly pale.  But  at  last  the  work  was  finished.  He 


FREEDOM    AND    FETTERS.  31 7 

opened  the  little  door,  announced  the  fact,  and  fled  to 
his  old  hiding-place  far  down  the  Arno. 

The  artist  called  his  wife,  and  together  they  entered 
and  drew  the  cloth  away  from  the  canvas  as  it  stood 
upon  the  boy's  little  easel. 

"  My  God  !  my  God  !  "  exclaimed  the  Italian  ;  and 
his  hand  trembled  as  he  held  up  the  cloth.  "My 
God!"  he  cried  again,  "I  could  not  have  done  it!  I 
could  not  have  done  it !  That  boy  will  be  the  great- 
est artist  Florence  ever  knew  !  " 

But  his  wife  made  no  answering  comment.  A  dark 
crimson  flush  burned  on  her  cheeks.  A  fierce,  low 
fire  flashed  from  deep  in  her  dark,  beautiful  eyes, 
while  her  trembling  lips  whispered,  "Holy  Mother, 
keep  my  darling  girl ! "  For,  instead  of  the  rare 
Madonna  face  which  her  husband  admired,  she  saw 
upon  the  canvas,  in  the  pencil's  living  lines,  the  beau- 
tiful face  of  a  darling  girl,  an  only  child  scarce  a 
fwelvemonth  over  ten  years  old,  every  shadow  and 
expression  perfect  as  a  photograph,  yet  with  an  in- 
describable something  about  it,  a  mist  of  maturity 
rendering  the  face  a  fitting  support  for  the  Madonna 
halo  about  it.  It  was  just  what  the  mother  had  been 
ten  years  before,  —  what  the  darling  girl  would  be 
in  ten  years  yet  to  come. 

It  was  a  wonderful  victory.  Every  one  joined  with 
the  Italian  artist  in  praising  the  little  painter ;  and 
almost  unheard  of  though  it  was,  the  child  was  one 
of  the  two  successful  applicants  before  the  committee, 
and  his  Madonna  head  hung  in  the  lower  gallery.  It 
hangs  to-day  in  another  gallery,  a  private  collection, 
and  is  praised  as  then.  It  is  doubly  praised,  for  no 
one  sees  it  now  but  some  one  whispers  in  his  ear  that 


318  CASTLE    FOAM. 

it  was  the  triumph  and  victory,  both  in  love  and  in 
art,  of  the  child  of  a  falsely  banished  prince. 

But  the  mother's  heart  rebelled  before  the  soft  beauty 
of  the  picture,  and  a  bitter  something  memory  cher- 
ished lived  and  burned  afresh  in  it.  Mists  dimmed 
those  dark  eyes,  and  the  picture  faded  from  before  her. 
Wind  seemed  rushing  through  forest-leaves  above  ; 
great  trunks  of  trees  surrounded  her ;  water  rippled 
and  sparkled  at  her  feet.  There  were  white-bells, 
and  blue-bells,  and  long-fingered  ferns  rising  above 
them.  Was  it  the  sunlight  on  the  tears  in  her  eyes, 
or  a  broad  blue  lake  through  the  branches  and  an  old 
mill  yonder?  Trees,  flowers,  water  faded  from  before 
her  into  two  eyes  that  were  looking  down  at  her,  and 
two  proud  lips  that  whispered,  "  I  love  you ;  come 
with  me."  And  she  believed  them  ;  she  had  dared 
to  answer,  "And — be — your — wife?"  Then  the  day- 
light grew  dark,  and  the  rude  wind  rushed  over  the 
water  and  through  the  trees  and  swept  them  all  away, 
as  from  the  gathering  blackness  came  a  hollow  echo 
sounding  back  to  her,  "All  but  my  name" 

She  had  known  those  eyes  again  the  moment  she 
saw  them  under  the  boy's  forehead,  and,  clasping  her 
child  in  her  arms,  thrown  all  the  bitterness  of  that 
memory  into  the  prayer,  "  Holy  Mother,  keep  my  dar- 
ling girl  !  "  It  was,  after  all,  a  foolish  prayer ;  but, 
alas  !  like  many  mothers,  she  did  not  see  the  folly  of 
it.  The  Holy  Mother,  in  all  wisdom,  had  selected 
Victor  Reppoun  to  keep  that  darling  girl  of  hers. 


POUR    LES    PAUVRES. 


319 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

-  POUR   LES   PAUVRES. 

ELISE  and  her  charge  were  delayed  ten  days  at 
Alexandria  before  they  started  ;  hence  it  chanced 
that  Constantine  Wolzonn  sailed  upon  the  same  ves- 
sel, but  the  princess  was  confined  to  her  room,  and 
Elise  had  eyes  and  ears  for  none  but  her  mistress. 

Several  times  the  officer  noted  the  old  woman  pass- 
ing and  repassing.  There  was  something  familiar  in 
the  face,  and  more  than  once  he  was  on  the  point  of 
speaking ;  but  she  was  so  changed  with  her  changed 
lot,  who  could  have  recognized  her?  He  let  the  oppor- 
tunity go  by. 

They  landed  at  Jaffa.  Elise  was  the  last  of  the 
passengers  to  engage  a  boatman  to  row  them  ashore. 
She  preferred  to  be  last ;  there  were  not  so  many 
inquisitive  eyes  fixed  on  her.  They  were  alone  in 
a  dirty,  leaking  boat,  with  four  opium-besotted  boat- 
men, half-naked  Arabs.  A  priest  in  a  pilgrim's  long 
cloak,  such  as  is  often  worn  in  Syria,  stood  upon  the 
wharf,  leaning  against  one  of  the  damp,  dingy  pillars 
that  support  the  custom-house  roof,  and  apparently 
reading,  while  his  eyes  wandered  far  over  the  water. 
As  Elise  gave  the  drunken  boatmen  a  piece  of  silver 
they  saw  another  in  her  hand.  It  was  the  very  last 
she  had.  They  were  already  overpaid;  but  seeing 


32O  CASTLE    FOAM. 

more,  and  only  two  women  to  defend  it,  they  deter- 
mined to  have  it,  and  because  she  would  not  give  it 
up,  one  of  them  seized  a  cloak  that  hung  upon  her 
arm,  and  the  rest  gathered  round  him  to  divide  it. 

This  was  too  much.  The  old  nurse  wiped  her 
forehead  with  a  corner  of  her  sleeve,  in  sheer  despair. 
She  had  no  more  tears  to  shed.  She  fell  upon  her 
knees  before  her  mistress  with  just  one  sob,  that  broke 
through  the  ice  that  was  rapidly  incasing  it. 

"Oh,  my  mistress,  my  lady  !  "  she  cried,  "it's  little 
more  that  your  old  nurse  can  do  for  you  !  They  have 
taken  everything  that  is  worth  anything,  and  I  too 
old  and  weak  to  stop  them  !  Oh,  why  could  you  not 
have  died  when  I  first  held  you  in  these  old  arms  ! 
But  it's  almost  over  now :  a  few  hours  more  we  shall 
both  be  gone.  Here's  the  last  we  have  to  buy  bread 
with,  and  there's  no  mercy  in  these  parts.  We'd  best 
be  on  our  way  into  the  other  world,  let  come  what 
will  there." 

The  priest  pushed  his  cowl  over  his  head  and  closed 
his  book.  His  appearance  was  quite  that  of  a  Capu- 
chin monk,  except  that  his  girdle  was  not  a  knotted 
rope.  He  bent  his  head  to  listen. 

"  Elise,"  said  the  princess,  "  I  have  made  a  great 
mistake.  I  am  ready  to  suffer,  and  to  mend,  if  mend 
I  can,  the  damage  I  have  done.  It  grieves  me  that 
you  must  suffer  too.  If  I  could  prevent  it,  I  would 
most  willingly.  Till  I  am  able,  be  patient.  Do  not 
bid  me  look  for  another  world  till  I  have  something 
better  to  say  for  this." 

A  man  rose  suddenly  up  within  the  priest.  He 
strode  with  the  step  of  one  of  authority  toward  where 
the  Arabs  circled  about  the  cloak.  He  laid  his  hand 


POUR    LES    PAUVRES.  321 

upon  it.  The  man  who  held  it  refused  to  give  it  up. 
In  another  instant  he  was  squirming  on  the  wharf,  too 
nearly  senseless  to  cry  to  his  fellows  to  revenge. 
"Swine!"  hissed  the  priest  in  Arabic;  that  curse  of 
all  curses,  except  those  cursing  the  mother  that  bore 
them,  that  galls  the  Arab  most.  Then  he  threw  a  coin 
on  the  ground,  and  while  none  of  them  dared  pick  it 
up,  and  not  one  of  the  officials  offered  to  interfere,  he 
singled  out  a  French  dragoman  from  among  the 
by-standers,  and  giving  him  some  money,  bade  him 
take  the  women  to  an  hotel,  see  them  provided  for,  and 
return  to  him. 

It  was  too  warm  to  travel  by  day ;  but  in  the  after- 
noon they  were  placed  in  a  comfortable  palanquin 
between  two  mules,  and  borne  over  the  hills  to  Jeru- 
salem ;  while  all  night  long  the  solitary  priest  walked 
silently  behind  them  over  those  forty  weary  miles, 
across  the  broad  plain  of  Sharon  to  Rahmel,  where 
they  rested  at  the  old  inn,  surrounded  by  the  high 
stone  wall,  with  the  gate  for  the  horses,  the  mules,  or 
the  camels,  and  the  needle's  eye  for  the  pilgrims,  and 
the  white  paved  court  within ;  then  down  through  the 
valley  of  Ajalon,  where  the  ground  was  covered  at 
that  season  with  the  bright  yellow  half-moons,  blossom- 
ing between  the  rocks,  from  seed  sown  there,  the 
guide  said,  in  that  long  afternoon  when,  for  Joshua, 
the  moon  stood  still  in  that  valley  of  Ajalon.  At 
Kirjath-Jearim,  the  people  of  the  dirty  village 
crumbling  away  with  the  hill-side,  roused  by  the 
furious  barking  of  the  dogs,  thrust  their  heads  out  of 
their  low  windows,  probably  just  as  their  predecessors 
had  done  when  king  David,  one  midnight,  struck  his 
harp  before  the  rescued  Ark  of  the  Covenant  there. 
21 


322  CASTLE    FOAM. 

For  very  little  ever  changes  on  those  old  hill-sides  of 
Judea.  As  they  reached  the  summit  of  the  mountains, 
the  Holy  City  lay  before  them,  tinted,  beautifully 
tinted,  over  its  flat  roofs  and  domes,  and  towers  and 
minarets,  by  the  rising  sun.  But  to  what  unapprecia- 
tive  eyes !  The  princess  slept.  The  nurse  looked 
toward  Jerusalem  as  though  she  looked  into  the  gate 
of  hell,  surely  with  no  more  of  hope  in  her  old  eyes. 
The  priest  following  the  palanquin  at  a  little  distance, 
apparently  praying  or  reading  earnestly,  crossed  him- 
self as  the  city  domes  appeared,  then  seemed  almost 
instantly  to  forget  it. 

He  placed  the  two  in  the  Russian  hospice,  paying 
their  board,  and  through  the  official  directed  them  to 
remain  until  they  should  hear  from  him. 

A  few  days  later  a  younger  priest  called  from  the 
Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulcher.  He  proposed  that 
they  two  should  sit  inside  the  door  of  the  church,  hold- 
ing boxes  "  Pour  les  Pauvres "  for  the  contribu- 
tions of  visitors,  and  offering  them  for  their  support  a 
quarter  of  what  they  collected.  This  was,  to  some 
degree  at  least,  what  the  princess  had  hoped  for,  and 
she  very  gladly  accepted  it,  though  it  was  some  time 
before  she  said  more  to  the  priest  than  that  she  had 
made  a  great  mistake,  that  he  was  not  the  one  she 
wished  to  see,  and  that  he  might  go  away.  He  was 
a  quiet,  intelligent  man,  and  surmising  something  of 
what  the  circumstances  must  be,  patiently  waited, 
explored,  led  her  on,  and  at  last  won  her  into  under- 
standing him  and  consenting  to  this  labor  for  the 
church. 

Thereafter,  each  morning  as  it  came  brought  a  mes- 
senger from  the  church  to  conduct  them  thither,  and 


POUR    LES    PAUVRES.  323  • 

in  the  afternoon  he  took  them  back  again.  Two 
women  dressed  in  black,  their  faces  covered  always 
with  black  veils,  holding  small  white  boxes  with  black 
lettering,  sitting  just  inside  the  door  in  the  winter,  and 
in  the  shadow  of  the  arch  outside  through  the  summer, 
will  surely  be  remembered  by  any  who  visited  Jeru- 
salem in  1834. 

The  boxes  proved  lucrative.  The  priests  voted  the 
strangers  a  complete  success ;  while  the  share  which 
each  night  came  to  the  two,  Elise  scrupulously  laid 
by,  saying,  "  Some  day  we  shall  take  that  and  go  back 
to  Russia."  Now  and  then  Elise  spoke  to  the  official 
of  the  hospice  about  their  board,  but  it  was  always 
paid  in  advance  of  her  questions,  by  some  of  the 
friendly  priests, —  probably  the  one  who  had  brought 
them  up  from  Jaffa,  thought  the  nurse. 

At  last  a  time  came  when  there  was  enough  gold 
and  to  spare  to  carry  them  to  St.  Petersburg,  and  Elise 
asked,  "  M'lady,  when  shall  we  start?" 

"  Start  for  where  ?  "  asked  the  mistress. 

"  For  home,  m'lady,  St.  Petersburg.  We  have  money 
enough  laid  up." 

"  Can  that  be  possible?  " 

"Yes,  m'lady;  over  a  thousand  rubles.  I  have 
kept  good  count.  Shall  we  start  to-morrow?  " 

"  And  how  much  will  it  take  to  reach  St.  Peters- 
burg?" 

"  Not  more  than  three  hundred  rubles,  at  the  most, 
for  each,  m'lady." 

"Count  out  three  hundred  rubles,  Elise." 

"Three!  m'lady?" 

"Three." 

"  For  one  !  m'lady  ?  " 


324  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"For  one,  Elise." 

"Which  one,  m'lady?" 

Elise  was  not  born  to  question.  She  rarely  did. 
Such  a  strange  command,  it  must  be  allowed,  might 
tempt  a  stronger  mind  to  question.  "Which  one?" 
But  as  she  received  no  answer,  she  quietly  executed  the 
command,  wondering  all  of  the  time  "which  one?  " 

She  handed  the  sum  to  the  princess,  gathered  up  in 
a  handkerchief.  The  official  of  the  hospice  had  given 
them  gold  for  their  silver.  The  princess  took  it,  looked 
into  the  handkerchief  much  as  she  looked  at  a  stran- 
ger, shook  her  head,  and  almost  said,  "I  have  made 
a  great  mistake."  Then  she  looked  at  Elise. 

"Is  this  quite  enough,  are  you  sure?" 

"Yes,  m'lady.  The  officer  below  told  me  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty." 

The  princess  held  out  the  handkerchief.  "  Take  it, 
Elise,"  she  said.  "  I  promised  long  ago  that  when  I 
was  able  you  should  bear  this  no  longer.  I  did  not 
dream  we  had  so  much  and  could  travel  for  so  little." 

Elise  looked  up,  and  asked  another  question  before 
she  took  the  handkerchief.  "  What  shall  you  do  with 
the  rest,  m'lady." 

"  I  shall  send  it,  Elise,  to  the  priest  who  brought  us 
up  from  Jaffa,  to  use  as  he  may  see  fit  for  those  who 
are  poor  and  have  need  of  it.  I  did  not  ask  the  Lord 
for  wealth.  I  asked  him  for  work  to  do,  and  for 
mercy.  If  he  has  both  of  these  for  me,  I  can  cheer- 
fully return  him  that  money  which  he  has  lent  me  to 
see  what  use  I  shall  make  of  it,  and  wait  his  time  to 
leave  Jerusalem." 

Elise  took  the  handkerchief  by  the  four  corners. 
She  held  it  at  arm's  length  and  let  three  corners  drop. 


POUR    LES  -PAUVRES.  325 

The  gold  fell  in  a  heap  at  her  mistress's  feet ;  only  a 
few  of  the  coins  rolled  away. 

"  If  the  Lord  wills  that  I  should  leave  you,  let  him 
pick  that  up  again  and  put  it  in  this  handkerchief," 
said  Elise  slowly. 

She  waited  a  moment.  Not  a  piece  of  the  gold  was 
moved.  Elise  was  apparently  satisfied,  and  with  her 
lips  pressed  painfully  together,  she  gathered  up  the 
gold,  put  it  into  the  box  in  which  they  kept  the  whole, 
and  asked,  "Shall  I  send  for  the  priest  and  give  him 
this?" 

"  No,  Elise  ;  he  might  refuse  it.  Find  out  his  name, 
get  a  Russian  note  from  the  officer  below  for  the 
amount,  and  send  the  note  to  him  so  that  he  shall  not 
know  from  whom  it  comes.  There  is  no  need  that  we 
make  much  of  doing  such  a  thing." 

But  the  blow  was  too  much  for  Elise.  She  had  lived 
on  the  hope  of  seeing  her  old  home  again,  and  though 
she  bore  it  without  a  murmur,  when  the  hope  was  ex- 
tinguished the  last  spark  of  vitality  seemed  to  vanish 
from  her  old  and  shattered  nerves. 

The  winter  had  brought  them  well  toward  Christ- 
mas time.  The  church  was  daily  rilled  to  overflow- 
ing with  visitors  and  pilgrims.  The  two  women  in 
black  had  never  before  reaped  such  a  harvest.  Some- 
times at  night  their  boxes  were  almost  full.  They 
made  the  sum  equal  to  fifteen  hundred  rubles  by  the 
time  that  Elise  had  discovered  the  priest,  who  was  only 
a  pilgrim  after  all,  serving  a  penance  as  altar-keeper 
and  the  like,  and  had  sent  the  note.  And  though 
Elise  obeyed  her  mistress  as  nearly  as  she  could,  the 
pilgrim  had  said  to  the  messenger,  "This  comes  from 
the  two  women  in  black  at  the  door?"  and  the  mes- 


326  CASTLE    FOAM. 

senger  had  said,  "I  am  forbidden  to  tell ;  "  but  that  was 
quite  sufficient. 

Then  came  a  change.  The  spark  that  began  to 
tremble  in  Elise  when  her  mistress's  determination  was 
made  known,  suddenly  went  out.  The  old  nurse  died 
in  her  bed  one  night  without  a  warning  pain.  The 
princess  found  her  in  the  morning,  and  a  flood  of 
tears  fell  over  the  cold  face,  from  eyes  that  Elise  had 
said  to  herself  had  forgotten  how  to  cry,  and  for  two 
days  no  one  sat  at  the  door  to  beg. 

Remarkable  providences  wait  sometimes  for  those 
who  are  helpless.  The  princess  could  have  done  noth- 
ing at  all  alone.  Even  when  strong  and  well,  she  had 
never  known  an  opportunity  to  lift  a  finger  for  her 
own  welfare.  She  knew  no  more  than  a  child  how 
to  arrange  her  dress  and  hair.  Some  one,  however, 
had  been  prepared  for  her. 

Less  than  a  week  before  the  old  nurse  died  a  strange 
lady  had  come  to  the  hospice,  —  one  evidently  neither 
rich  nor  poor,  —  accompanied  by  a  young  man  of 
twenty,  or  a  little  more.  She  had  become  much  inter- 
ested in  the  women  in  black ;  had  asked  many  ques- 
tions about  them  ;  had  seemed  to  follow  them  as  they 
went  and  came ;  had  even  spoken  once  or  twice  to 
the  old  nurse.  But  Elise  was  crabbed  and  short  in 
her  answers,  when  she  thought  people  inquisitive. 

The  news  of  the  death  did  not  spread  very  gen- 
erally over  the  hospice,  yet  the  strange  lady  was 
beside  the  princess  before  any  one  'had  given  a  help- 
ing hand. 

Strange  how  captivating  intelligent  heart-sympathy 
may  be  !  And  yet  it  is  not  strange. 

The  lady  had  first  knelt  beside  the  princess  at  Elise's 


POUR    LES    PAUVRES.  327 

bed.  She  had  not  spoken  much,  but  ere  long  had  even 
wound  her  arm  about  the  princess's  waist,  kissed  her 
pale  cheek,  and  led  her  to  a  chair,  where,  after  smooth- 
ing the  bed  upon  which  the  body  of  Elise  lay,  and 
covering  the  face  with  the  sheet,  she  began  to  arrange 
her  hair,  even  more  gently  than  Elise  had  done  it,  — 
that  thick,  soft,  snow-white  hair,  that  had  once  been 
so  much  like  the  sunlight.  She  must  have  been  a 
close  observer,  for  she  asked  no  questions ;  she  talked 
of  matters  as  far  from  anything  present  as  could  be 
imagined ;  yet  the  hair  was  arranged  precisely  as 
Elise  had  always  done  it,  and  her  clothes  were  put  on 
as  she  was  used  to  having  them,  with  a  readiness  and 
gentleness  that  made  the  stranger  seem  even  less  of  a 
stranger  than  Elise  had  been  for  the  last  two  months. 
The  princess  even  asked  her  to  remain  with  her  that 
night. 

"  I  should  like  to  remain  with  you  always.  I  should 
like  to  take  Elise's  place  if  you  should  please,"  she 
said. 

"What !  and  live  the  hard  life  that  we  have  lived? 
We  have  no  reward  for  it  but  our  board  and  the  love 
of  God." 

"I  have  done  many  harder  things,"  said  the  stranger. 

There  was  something  in  the  tone  or  the  way  she 
said  that  simple  sentence  that  touched  a  chord  of  sym- 
pathy, a  spring  of  love.  It  was  a  strange  sensation. 
She  replied,  "  If  you  could  be  happy  so,  I  should  love 
to  have  you  stay." 

Altogether,  the  tears  she  had  shed  for  Elise,  and  the 
new  thoughts  and  feelings  inspired  by  the  stranger, 
proved  very  beneficial.  The  princess  was  more  like 
her  old  self  again  ;  she  even  smiled.  The  stranger 


328  CASTLE    FOAM. 

asked  her,  "  Are  you  quite  satisfied  with  what  you  are 
doing  here?" 

"It  is  for  God,"  she  said;  "I  have  no  choice." 
"  But  there  is  much  work  for  God  in  other  places. 
There  are  lands  where  Christians  are  not  all  pilgrims, 
you  know,  and  there  are  tired  hands  and  weary  hearts 
in  those  lands  that  need  cheering.  We  can  hardly 
realize,  until  we  see  it,  how  much  there  is  for  any 
one  to  do  who  will  give  a  life  to  God  in  a  Christian 
land.  You  have  a  kind  heart,  madame,  and  a  very 
gentle  face.  There  are  thousands  of  fainting  ones  in 
the  city  where  I  have  lived,  that  would  bless  God  to 
see  you  coming  to  their  door  to  comfort  them." 

Thus  the  lady  talked  throughout  the  evening.  It  was 
entirely  a  new  revelation  to  the  princess,  a  new  life 
opened  to  her.  It  was  a  sunny  side  of  duty,  brought 
to  light  by  this  very  sunshine  that  had  taken  Elise's 
place.  Before  the  evening  was  spent  she  said,  "I 
have  made  a  very  great  mistake  in  life,  and  the  more 
I  can  do  to  atone  for  it  the  better.  I  will  go  with  you 
to  your  city,  and  work  for  the  Master's  poor  ones 
there.  But  it  would  be  ungrateful  to  these  good 
priests  to  go  when  my  little  box  is  doing  its  best  for 
them.  Let  me  stay  two  weeks,  just  through  the  New 
Year's  festival,  then  I  will  go."  And  the  stranger  re- 
plied, "Then  let  me  take  Elise's  place  with  you,  and 
hold  her  box  until  we  go."  And  so  it  was  arranged ; 
and  two  women  in  black  again  held  the  boxes  at  the 
door,  though  the  worn-out  mortality  of  the  faithful, 
loving,  true-hearted  Elise  had  been  borne  away  by  the 
priests,  and  buried  outside  the  walls. 


THE    CLOUDS    LIFT    AS    THE    DAY    DIES.  329 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

THE   CLOUDS  LIFT  AS  THE   DAY  DIES. 

IS  it  too  wide  a  retreat  to  glance  back  again  to  where 
Albrecht  von  Bremen  lay  bound  and  pleading  for 
his  life  at  the  hands  of  the  fishermen  on  the  rocky  is- 
land off  the  Syrian  coast? 

He  was  partially  successful ;  they  neither  ate  nor 
killed  him,  but  they  kept  him  well  bound.  The  sailor 
and  the  little  girl  they  put  upon  the  first  of  their  boats 
that  was  going  to  the  main-land  with  its  cargo  of  little 
fish  for  canning  in  oil.  He  had  surmised  that  this 
would  be  the  case,  and  had  managed  to  write  a  letter 
to  send  by  them  to  any  authority  that  might  have 
power  to  relieve  him.  It  is  useless  to  follow  this 
letter  from  hand  to  hand,  authority  and  authority,  till 
by  the  simplest  accident,  a  hair's  breadth  and  less  in 
itself,  it  came  to  the  knowledge  of  the  Russian  military 
consul,  Wolzonn. 

"Von  Bremen  !  "  he  said,  "Von  Bremen  !  that  man 
must  be  saved.  I  must  see  him,  be  it  how  it  may." 

General  Wolzonn  obtained  a  Turkish  requisition 
and  military  escort,  and  started  in  a  small  vessel  for 
the  island. 

Von  Bremen  had  long  before  given  up  all  hope  of 
rescue,  and  devoted  himself  to  cursing  his  luck,  and 


33°  CASTLE    FOAM. 

wishing  they  would  kill  him  quickly  if  kill  it  must  be, 
for  he  looked  upon  the  fishermen  and  treated  them  as 
savages  and  cannibals,  when  his  feet  were  unbound, 
and  he  was  carried,  being  unable  to  walk,  before  the 
officer  who  had  come  for  him. 

He  had  not  looked  up  as  he  approached,  his  eyes 
being  shut,  as  he  cringed  and  shivered  under,  the  pain 
inflicted  by  the  motion  of  the  fishermen. 

They  set  him  down.  He  looked  into  General  Wol- 
zonn's  face,  then  caught  the  shoulder  of  one  of  the 
fishermen  to  support  himself.  His  nerves  were  not  so 
strong  as  they  had  been. 

"H'm,  I  had  better  have  been  left  alone,"  he  mut- 
tered. 

"You  are  mistaken,"  said  the  officer.  "Should  I 
deal  with  you  as  justice  would  dictate,  you  had  better 
far  be  left  to  any  fate.  You  have  injured  me  almost 
beyond  conception.  I  will  be  more  lenient,  I  will  be 
more  honest.  I  have  gathered  from  different  sources 
certain  facts ;  I  want  you  to  bind  them  together  for 
me.  Do  this,  and  I  take  you  away  from  this  island. 
Remember,  I  promise  nothing  more.  I  will  take  you 
away  from  here,  if  you  will  answer  my  questions  in  a 
way  that  the  facts  I  have  already  gathered  shall 
assure  me  you  speak  the  truth." 

"I  will  tell  anything,"  said  Albrecht  von  Bremen. 

"Then  begin  at  the  very  beginning,  and  tell  me  all 
you  know  of  Kathi  Chichkini." 

The  Dane  cringed,  but  his  life  was  hanging  by  a 
thread.  He  sat  down  on  the  sand,  and  told  Con- 
stantine  Wolzonn  all  he  knew  of  Kathi  Chichkini. 
Therefor  he  was  carried  back,  as  promised,  and  set 
down  in  Beyroot. 


THE    CLOUDS    LIFT    AS    THE    DAY    DIES.  331 

General  Wolzonn  was  disappointed.  He  had  long 
harbored  an  idea  of  seeking  out  the  girl,  notwith- 
standing the  argument  of  the  count  to  the  end  that  he 
had  not  stolen  her.  The  Dane  had  been  for  six 
months  a  prisoner  when  he  found  him,  and  though 
he  had  really  less  information  to  form  his  judgment 
of  the  man's  veracity  upon  than  he  would  have  dared 
admit,  he  yet  believed  that  for  once  the  man  had 
told  the  truth.  Possibly  it  was  because  he  told  some- 
thing so  very  different  from  what  he  had  expected. 
At  all  events,  while  he  was  astonished,  more  than 
that  even,  he  was  also  disappointed,  and  let  the  mat- 
ter drop.  He  felt  guilty  in  doing  so  ;  yet,  after  all, 
it  was  at  best  a  choice  between  evils.  He  would 
have  felt  guilty  to  have  interfered  with  matters  as 
they  were.  It  was  an  unfortunate  break  upon  the 
serenity  of  his  life,  and  reflection  upon  it  brought 
back  many  times  the  sinking  heavy-heartedness  that 
had  for  many  years  been  his  constant  companion. 
Perhaps  it  was  not  amiss  after  all  that  he  should  some- 
times be  reminded  that  he  was  still  mortal,  and  not 
altogether  perfect. 

New  Year's  Day  came  ;  the  first  day  of  1835.  Gen- 
eral Wolzonn  was  upon  his  semi-annual  visit  to  Jerusa- 
lem. He  sauntered  carelessly  up  and  down  a  short 
section  of  the  Via  Dolorosa,  in  front  of  the  Turkish 
government-office,  waiting  the  movements  of  one  of 
those  slow  officials  who  will  stop  and  roll  a  cigarette 
and  smoke  it  out,  if  they  think  you  are  in  haste, 
before  they  answer  you ;  and  if  your  business  seems 
to  impress  you  as  a  matter  of  great  importance,  re- 
quiring an  immediate  action,  they  will  then  tell  you 
to  call  the  next  day  at  an  appointed  hour,  when  they 


332  CASTLE    FOAM. 

will  have  more  time  to  attend  to  you.  If  you  know 
the  Turk,  and  really  wish  to  see  the  officer,  you  will 
not  go  at  the  hour  he  appoints. 

Strangely  apropos- with  coming  events,  what  Cole- 
ridge calls  the  spirit  of  great  events  striding  before 
the  events,  was  a  scrap  from  Schiller,  which  the  offi- 
cer, innocently  enough,  quoted  while  he  waited, 
thinking  only  of  the  time  he  was  wasting,  which  was 
not  of  much  importance  after  all : 

"  .  .  .  .  Oh,  Time 

Works  miracles.     In  one  hour  many  thousands 
Of  grains  of  sand  run  out;  and  quick  as  they, 
Thought  follows  thought  within  the  human  breast. 
Only  one  hour!     Your  heart  may  change  its  purpose. 
His  heart  may  change  its  purpose.      Some  event  decisive 
May  fall  from  heaven  to  rescue  him.     Oh,  what 
May  not  one  hour  bring  forth  !  " 

Then,  as  he  sauntered,  his  thoughts  ran  back  to 
the  bones  he  had  left  to  bleach  between  the  hot  sun 
and  the  white  sand,  under  the  shadow  of  Ghizeh,  the 
temple  of  Anaraches.  He  was  absently  gazing  down 
the  long,  narrow  street,  when  suddenly  his  aimless 
attitude  and  expression  changed  to  one  of  intense 
activity. 

Many  narrow  lanes  terminate  in  the  Via  Dolorosa, 
and  from  one  of  these  he  saw  the  figure  of  a  man 
enter  between  the  high  walls  that  border  the  way  of 
Christ's  cross-bearing,  and  in  an  instant  become  lost 
in  the  crowd  that  was  moving  away  from  him. 

"  What ! "  exclaimed  the  military  consul  so  sharply 
that  the  Arab  servant  beside  him  fell  upon  his  knees. 
But  he  knelt  unheeded. 

"  By  the  immortal  gods  !  if  that  was  not  a  ghost  it 


THE    CLOUDS    LIFT    AS    THE    DAY    DIES.  333 

was  the  Prince  von  Meerschaum  !  "  ejaculated  the  ex- 
cited officer. 

He  forgot  the  Turkish  official,  forgot  the  trembling 
slave,  forgot  everything  but  to  lay  his  hand  upon  his 
sword,  and  run  toward  where  the  man  had  dis- 
appeared. 

Reaching  the  spot  where  the  way  between  the  high 
walls  curves  southward,  toward  the  strongly  block- 
aded Golden  Gate,  he  stepped  upon  a  block  beside  a 
door,  and  saw,  not  twenty  feet  ahead  of  him,  that 
same  figure  of  a  man. 

"Can  the  grave  give  up  its  dead?"  he  asked,  and 
trembled.  For  he  had  sown  the  wind  down  by  the 
pyramids.  Had  it  risen  up  a  whirlwind,  and  must 
he  reap  it? 

He  stood  on  that  stone  step  poised  between  two  of 
the  strongest  animal  impulses  of  his  life,  namely : 
To  fly?  To  follow?  He  followed. 

Not  far  beyond  them  was  the  spot — traditional  of 
course,  spurious  perhaps,  but  just  as  dearly  loved  by 
many  as  though  no  scholar  doubted  its  authenticity 
—  where  the  cross  at  last  rested,  and  where,  after  the 
veil  of  the  temple  was  rent  in  twain,  a  sepulcher  was 
opened  for  Him  who  entered  it  to  conquer  death. 
Across  the  square,  before  this  spot,  the  figure  in  Ori- 
ental dress  walked  leisurely,  and  entered  the  gloomy, 
low  portal  in  the  great  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepul- 
cher, built  so  low  to  prevent  fanatic  Turks  from 
desecrating  the  holy  spot  by  riding  in  on  horse- 
back. 

General  Wolzonn  paused  outside  the  door,  beside 
the  two  posts  in  whose  shadow  two  women  in  black 
sat  to  beg  in  the  summer  time. 


334  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"  I  will  not  stain  the  holy  place  with  blood,"  said 
he,  "  but  when  he  comes  out  I  must  kill  him  and  not 
fail,  for  my  own  life  as  well  as  for  her  death." 

There  was,  after  all,  more  of  the  old  man  left  in 
Constantine  Wolzonn,  hard  as  he  had  labored  to 
expel  it. 


As  he  in  Oriental  robes  passed  the  two  women  in 
black  he  stopped  to  drop  a  coin  into  one  of  the  boxes. 
He  stopped  longer.  He  stood  looking  at  the  hand 
that  held  the  box,  till  sheer  politeness  to  a  woman 
turned  his  head  away,  and  he  crossed  the  main 
circle  of  the  church.  Under  the  dome  he  stood  irres- 
olute. 

"What  hand  was  that?  "  he  said,  passing  his  palm 
over  his  forehead,  as  if  to  wipe  some  obscuring  veil 
away.  "It  has  taken  hold  of  me.  I  can  see  it,  feel  it 
beckoning  me,  while  some  stronger  incentive  impels 
me  not  to  look  again.  A  dread  foreboding  threat- 
ens me.  Could  that  be  Kathi  Chichkini's  hand?  No, 
no !  The  thing  is  absurdly  impossible.  Hers  was 
short,  and  fat  and  brown  ;  this  was  narrow,  thin,  and 
white.  But  whose  was  it?  I  have  surely  seen  it 
somewhere,  and  it  has  made  a  deep  impression  on 
me." 

A  priest  pulled  his  robe.  "  Have  you  seen  the 
sepulcher?  " 

"Yes,  I  have  seen  it  many  times,  but  I  will  go 
again.  Light  up  your  taper.  Where  have  I  seen 
it  ?  "  he  asked  himself  absently. 

"  Why,  right  behind  you,  sir,"  the  priest  replied. 


THE    CLOUDS    LIFT    AS    THE    DAY    DIES.  335 

"Yes,  yes.  I  was  not  speaking  of  the  sepulcher, 
father.  Is  your  taper  ready?  " 

"  Ready  and  wasting." 

"  Then  lead  on."  And  to  himself,  "It  is  the  strangest 
thing  that  ever  crossed  my  life." 

"  It  is  indeed  a  strange  —  strange  — . " 

"I  was  not  thinking  of  the  sepulcher,  good  father." 

The  priest  entered  the  low  doorway.  His  follower 
had  stooped  to  enter,  when  he  stopped  and  turned 
half  about,  then  shook  his  head  and  muttered,  "  No, 
no,  I  dare  not  look." 

The  priest  had  thrust  his  head  out  of  the  door  and 
caught  the  words. 

"  You  have  nothing  to  fear,  sir.  You  may  look 
till  —  " 

"I  will  look,  good  father.  I  was  not  thinking  of 
the  sepulcher."  He  entered. 


He  had  not  dared  look  back.  Why  not?  Had  he 
looked  back  he  would  not  have  entered  the  sepulcher. 

While  he  stood  looking  at  that  hand  the  princess 
had  not  moved.  The  moment  he  turned  away  she 
raised  her  veil,  the  first  time  she  had  ever  raised  it 
outside  of  the  hospice,  and  turning  to  her  compan- 
ion who  had  taken  Elise's  place,  she  said,  "Could  he 
have  recognized  me?" 

It  was  a  simple  question,  but  she  asked  a  second 
time  before  the  companion  replied,  "  Could  who,  my 
lady?" 

"  Why  he,  the  Prince  von  Meerschaum." 

"  Do  you  know  him  ?  "  asked  the  other. 


336  CASTLE    FOAM. 

A  sudden  realization  of  her  situation  swept  before 
her  mind,  and  with  it  the  painful  conviction  that  she 
did  not  know  what  she  was  at  that  moment,  if  any- 
thing at  all,  to  this  Prince  von  Meerschaum.  It  was 
like  a  tidal  wave  of  suffering.  It  ingulfed  her.  A 
moment  before  she  would  have  said,  w  He  is  my  hus- 
band !  I  will  fly  to  him  ! "  When  the  wave  had 
passed  over  her  she  drew  the  veil  back  again,  and 
only  answered,  without  a  quiver  in  her  soft,  melodi- 
ous voice,  "  I  did  know  him,  yes ;  but  it  was  years 
ago.  I  do  not  wonder  he  has  forgotten  me." 

The  blood  of  KramarefF  still  had  valor  to  do  and 
dare.  The  reply  was  a'resolute  determination  to  let 
the  opportunity  go  by.  Her  companion  did  not  break 
the  silence  that  followed  with  even  a  breath.  She 
was  wise.  When  the  soul  struggles  with  itself,  it  is 
too  busy  to  turn  its  thoughts  out  of  the  windows. 
Her  head  fell  heavily  upon  her  hand  ;  that  thin,  slen- 
der, and  white  hand.  It  was  displayed  to  its  perfec- 
tion as  it  rested  outside  the  black  veil,  to  support  her 
head. 

Long  and  silently  the  hand  rested  there  —  a  po- 
sition like  a  beacon-light,  the  most  prominent  thing 
in  all  the  church,  as  the  prince  came  out  of  the 
sepulcher.  Involuntarily  his  eyes  fell  upon  it.  They 
became  instantly  fastened  there  as  by  some  strange 
spell.  Yet  it  was  only  what  he  had  seen  before  —  a 
hand! 

The  Greek  service  began  beyond  the  sepulcher. 
With  an  effort  of  a  strong  will  the  prince  turned 
away,  having  come  to  no  other  conclusion  than  that 
he  had  seen  that  hand  before ;  and  in  a  moment  more 


THE    CLOUDS    LIFT    AS    THE    DAY    DIES.  337 

was  absorbed  in  the  familiar  form  he  had  so  often 
listened  to  at  Schaumburg. 

The  princess,  forgetting  altogether  her  surround- 
ings, forgetting  even  the 'pain  the  resolution  not  to 
be  recognized  had  cost  her,  had  been  upon  a  long 
journey.  She  had  been  with  her  cousin  Major  Wol- 
zonn  up  to  an  old  witch's  den,  in  Switzerland.  She 
had  been  looking  at  pictures  in  the  white  smoke,  — 
reading  her  life  history. 

"  But  the  last  she  lost,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  Ah  I 
what  shall  that  last  picture  be  ?  " 


Leaning  against  the  stone  post,  it  may  be  sup- 
posed that  General  Wolzonn  became  uneasy.  Worse 
than  that,  he  felt  his  courage  oozing  out  of  his  finger- 
tips, and  he  had  very  little  confidence  in  himself 
when  the  coward  was  uppermost. 

"  Will  the  villain  keep  me  here  till  dark?  "  he  mut- 
tered ;  and  a  little  later,  resting  his  hand  upon  his 
sword,  entered  the  church,  adding,  "  He  shall  die 
where  he  is,  or  I  will  die  there." 

The  church  was  literally  crowded  with  pilgrims 
and  visitors.  From  Christmas  to  New  Year's  Day 
is  a  festival  only  exceeded  in  popularity  by  the  Easter 
pilgrimage  to  witness  the  Holy  Fire ;  but  in  spite  of 
the  vast  throng,  which  was  most  closely  packed  about 
the  Greek  chapel,  witnessing  the  magnificent  New 
Year's  service,  almost  the  first  person  to  meet  the 
officer's  eyes  was  the  Prince  Reppoun  ;  and  directly 
over  his  head,  so  real  that  Constantine  Wolzonn  could 
not  for  one  moment  doubt  that  it  was  indeed  the  actual 

22 


338  CASTLE    FOAM. 

spirit  drawing  him  on  to  do  his  duty  and  seal  his 
vow,  hovered  that  pale  face,  that  flowing,  sunlight 
hair,  those  pleading  eyes  and  outstretched  hands,  that 
naked  breast  and  dagger-hilt. 

"Ah,  why  hast  thou  not  told  me,"  he  muttered, 
"that  my  duty  was  not  done?"  —  and  never  took  his 
eyes  from  it  till  he  stood  close  behind  the  prince, 
whose  back  was  toward  him.  His  arms  were  crossed, 
his  head  bowed  forward.  He  did  not  move  till  close 
behind  him  he  heard  a  voice  pronounce  his  name  : 

"  Victor  Reppoun  !  " 

Turning  suddenly,  he  beheld  the  man  whose  face 
he  remembered  with  such  a  bitter  pain  as  it  had  been 
translated  to  him  in  Egypt,  standing  again  with  drawn 
sword, — yes,  even  with  his  sword  raised  to  strike, 
before  he  had  given  a  warning  word. 

It  is  the  faculty  that  wins  life's  victories  for  some 
men  that  they  can  act  instantly  and  act  well.  Other 
men,  with  far  more  brilliant  opportunities,  virtually 
throw  them  all  away  by  blundering  in  emergencies. 

In  truth,  the  officer  did  not  dare  to  give  his  enemy 
warning,  or  more  at  Itast  than  would  grant  him 
a  moment's  realization  that  it  was  the  hand  of  the 
avenger,  before  he  struck.  The  blade  was  falling ; 
a  narrow  glimmer  of  yellow  light  flashed  along  its 
polished  surface  from  the  candles  on  the  altar.  The 
crowd  involuntarily  pressed  back  as  the  officer  ap- 
proached. They  stood  in  a  little  circle,  quite  alone. 
The  prince  could  fall  to  the  ground  without  touching 
one  of  the  by-standers.  But  the  prince  was  not  ready 
to  fall.  He  had  turned  his  head,  and  in  an  instant 
comprehended  all.  Before  he  had  time  to  move  his 
body,  he  had  grasped  for  that  uplifted  hand  to  hold 


THE    CLOUDS    LIFT   AS    THE    DAY   DIES.  339 

the  blade ;  but  he  missed  it.  The  sword  did  not  fall 
so  low  as  to  meet  his  grasp.  The  hand  of  a  Greek 
priest  had  clutched  that  of  the  officer  and  held  it  still 
higher.  The  prince  turned  toward  the  priest  with  a 
smile,  and  said : 

"  Good  father,  you  have  saved  my  life.  I  will  thank 
you  later." 

He  stepped  back  and  drew  his  sword.  The  priest 
let  the  officer's  hand  drop,  and  .shrank  back  into  the 
crowd  without  a  word. 

"You  are  late,  general,"  said  the  prince  calmly,  as 
they  crossed  swords.  "I  have  my  right  hand  now. 
This  is  a  church  ;  can  you  not  wait,  and  let  me  go 
outside  with  you?"  He  held  the  officer's  sword  above 
his  own  while  he  spoke. 

"A  life  for  a  life,  here  and  now!"  said  the  officer 
fiercely ;  and  endeavoring  to  take  advantage  of  the 
other's  position,  he  made  a  sudden  thrust. 

"Not  yet!"  said  the  prince,  parrying.  "The  blood 
is  not  upon  my  hands,  but  to-day  I  shall  revenge  my- 
self on  you,  for  these  two  times  that  you  have  played 
the  coward  with  me  !  " 

He  placed  himself  in  position  for  the  duel.  The 
officer  made  another  sudden  thrust,  and  a  bright 
spark  flew  toward  the  altar  as  their  swords  met. 

The  commotion  and  the  voices  caused  the  princess, 
sitting  by  the  door,  to  lift  her  head.  .She  grasped  the 
hand  of  her  companion,  exclaiming,  "It  is  he!  it  is 
he  !  and  in  danger  !  O  God,  save  him  !"  And  rising, 
she  rushed  toward  the  spot,  about  which  a  dense  crowd 
was  already  gathering. 

"General,  be  careful ;  when  I  say  three,  look  out!" 
said  the  prince,  eying  him  as  a  wild  beast  ready  to 


34°  CASTLE    FOAM. 

spring  upon  a  prey  that  has  maddened  him.  Then 
slowly  and  distinctly  he  began  to  count:  "One  —  two 

THREE  ! " 

With  a  sudden  motion  he  twisted  the  officer's  sword 
from  his  hand ;  it  shot  through  the  crowd  and  fell  be- 
fore the  altar;  then,  grasping  his  own  blade  in  his 
left  hand,  he  struck  the  officer  full  in  the  chest  with 
his  right.  He  reeled  and  fell  backward.  The  prince 
smiled. 

"Unsworded  and  fallen,"  he  exclaimed,  "and  with- 
out a  scratch.  Now,  friend  Wolzonn,  get  up  and  be- 
have yourself." 

He  took  the  hand  of  the  officer,  who  was  almost 
unconscious  with  fright,  and  lifted  him  to  his  feet. 

"  One  has  fallen ! "  swept  from  mouth  to  mouth 
through  the  crowd.  The  princess  heard  but  could 
not  see  which  one.  With  a  shriek  she  struggled  to 
separate  the  crowd.  The  great  church  became  a 
stifling  cloud  and  whirled  about  her.  She  raised  her 
hands  and  fell  backward,  striking  her  head  heavily 
upon  the  iron  railing  about  the  Stone  of  Unction. 

"What  voice  was  that?"  exclaimed  the  prince. 
His  head  was  high  above  the  crowd,  he  could  see 

everything.  He  saw  a  white  hand  raised  in 

the  air,  a  face  like  marble  behind  it,  as  the  princess 
fell  backward. 

"  My  wife  !  "  he  exclaimed,  and  with  a  strong  arm 
hurling  the  crowd  right  and  left,  he  reached  the  spot 
and  lifted  her  gently  upon  one  shoulder. 

The  ignorant  rabble  took  his  haste  as  flight  from 
justice,  and  the  cry  of  "  Stop  him  !  Stop  him  ! "  rose 
from  every  lip  as  the  crowd  became  infuriated  and 
pressed  about  him. 


THE    CLOUDS    LIFT    AS    THE    DAY    DIES.  34! 

Holding  his  wife  firmly  with  his  left  arm,  he  raised 
his  right  hand  above  his  head  and  his  clear  voice  rang 
loud  above  the  shouting  of  the  multitude  :  "  Make  way 
for  me,  or  I  shall  make  my  way  through  you  !  " 

Then  the  crowd  fell  back,  and  he  left  the  church 
without  so  much  as  brushing  one  of  them  with  the  hem 
of  his  garment.  But  no  sooner  had  he  passed  than 
like  the  air  severed  by  a  flash  of  lightning,  the  two 
parts  came  together  with  a  crash,  and  every  one  struck 
his  neighbor,  and  every  one  was  struck  by  his  neigh- 
bor, in  one  of  those  mad  riots  where  no  one  knows 
why  he  is  striking  or  why  he  is  struck,  that  are  un- 
fortunately frequent  even  to-day  in  the  Church  of  the 
Holy  Sepulcher. 

As  he  passed  through  the  low  doorway,  he  noticed 
the  woman  who  had  been  the  companion  of  the  prin- 
cess, and  who  till  then  had  remained  beside  them, 
turn  to  go  another  way. 

"  Madame,"  said  he,  "  you  have  been  doing  me  an 
unspeakable  kindness.  Will  you  not  remain  by  this 
lady  a  little  longer,  I  fear  she  is  dangerously  wounded 
and  will  be  much  in  need  of  help." 

The  woman  in  black  made  no  reply,  but  turned  to 
follow. 

General  Wolzonn  had  hurried  across  the  square. 
He  touched  the  prince's  arm  and  knelt  beside  him. 

"  My  lord,  I  cannot  understand  this  at  all,"  said  he  ; 
"  but  whatever  it  may  be,  my  rooms  are  the  best  in 
Jerusalem.  Take  them.  For  mercy's  sake,  let  me  do 
something ;  you  are  more  than  welcome." 

"  Friend  Wolzonn,  you  are  yourself  again  ;  lead  on, 
and  I  will  follow,"  said  the  prince. 


342  CASTLE    FOAM. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

THE   FULL   SUN   AT   EVENTIDE. 

"  Softly  as  Apollo's  ray 

O'er  Neptune's  kingdom  fades  away, 

Lingering  on  Oread's  heights 
Faint  and  fading  Tyrian  lights, 

Should  life's  hour  of  twilight  be 

Welcoming  to  Mercury; 
The  King's  high  messenger  who  waits  to  bear 

The  ransomed  spirit  through  the  air 
To  Charon,  who  by  dark  Berisium 

Shall  ferry  to  the  blessed  Elysium." 

IN  an  hour  the  princess  had  recovered  conscious- 
ness.    She  was  in  a  luxurious  apartment,  with  her 
companion  and  the  doctor,  trying  to  recall   a  happy 
vision  upon  which  she  had  closed  her  eyes. 

The  doctor  knelt  beside  her.  His  face  wore  that 
anxious  look  of  foreboding  which  one  watches  at 
such  a  time,  as  the  South  Sea  mariner  looks  hard  after 
the  departing  albatross.  It  bodes  no  good  to  the 
troubled  watcher.  It  is  the  signal-flag  of  danger  to 
life's  wearied  mariners  who  would  guide  a  precious 
bark  that  in  spite  of  them  is  dropping,  dropping  down 
into  the  gulf  of  death. 

He  whispered,  "Do  you  suffer  any  pain,  my,  lady  ?  " 
"No,  monsieur,"  she  replied.     "I    feel  quite  well, 
but  very  weak." 


THE    FULL    SUN   AT    EVENTIDE.  343 

He  rose  softly.  The  companion  of  the  princess 
looked  at  him  with  eager  inquiry.  There  was  no  light 
in  his  eye  as  he  left  the  room. 

The  Prince  von  Meerschaum  met  him  just  outside 
the  door,  where  he  had  been  anxiously  waiting. 

"  She  is  not  dead  ! "  he  gasped,  looking  into  the 
doctor's  face. 

"  No,  my  lord,"  he  replied. 

"  Doctor,"  said  the  prince  ;  but  he  silenced  him  with 
a  gesture  of  his  hand. 

"  Life  is  too  sacred  to  require  a  bribe  for  a  struggle 
to  save  it,"  said  he.  "  Her  system  was  too  weak  to  sus- 
tain the  shock,  it  has  yielded  already,  she  is  perfectly 
conscious,  and  may  live  for  an  hour ;  but  do  not  waste 
your  time  in  vain  offers,  for  the  wealth  of  the  world 
cannot  keep  her  more  than  that." 

With  a  trembling  hand  Victor  Reppoun  turned  the 
latch.  His  heart  stood  almost  still.  His  tongue  was 
heavy  with  a  prayer  for  mercy.  No  thought  occurred 
to  him  that  he  had  aught  to  forgive  as  well. 

In  the  interim  the  princess,  who  had  read  the  truth 
as  plainly  as  though  it  had  been  spoken,  and  who 
had  recalled  what  had  passed  in  the  church,  turned 
calmly  to  her  companion,  and  said,  "I  am  going  to 
die.  The  Master  is  satisfied.  Can  the  Prince  Rep- 
poun be  found?  I  should  like  to  speak  with  him." 

As  she  asked  the  question  he  opened  the  door. 

There,  upon  Eastern  cushions,  lay  one  whose  face, 
still  beautiful,  the  dark  eyes  darker  for  the  snow- 
white  hair,  he  was  only  in  dreams  to  see  afterward; 
one  who,  but  for  himself,  would  have  been  the  con- 
summate felicity  and  pride  of  his  life.  And  some- 
thing told  him  in  that  moment  that  she  loved  him 


344  CASTLE    FOAM. 

still ;  through  all,  in  spite  of  all !  He  approached 
the  couch.  The  soft  eyes  fell  on  him.  She 
smiled. 

"I  made  a  very  great  mistake,"  she  said.  "  I  sinned 
terribly;  but  God  has  forgiven  me.  Can  you?"' 

Could  he  forgive? 

Could  she  forgive? 

Her  last  words,  lying  locked  in  her  husband's  arms 
in  a  first  and  last  embrace,  were  these  : 

"Then,  let  the  blighted  past  fall  from  its  withered 
limb.  Ten  times  over  I  would  have  borne  it  all  for 
this.  Oh,  I  would  linger  so !  This  dying  is  too 
sweet  to  have  it  over  with." 

She  smiled  again,  a  smile  that  lingered  on  her  lips 
longer  than  the  breath  of  life.  How  many  tears  that 
smile  would  have  saved  had  it  come  earlier  !  How 
many  tears  it  saved  coming  when  it  did.  There  was 
a  celestial  beauty  about  it.  It  was  the  first  shadow  of 
the  angel's  smile  that  ever  afterward  guarded  and 
cheered  the  life  she  loved  ;  and  doubtless  its  continu- 
ance was  first  to  meet  him  when  his  sowing  and  reap- 
ing times  were  also  over,  and  the  almost  was  forever 
in  the  blessed  "by-and-by." 

The  sheet  had  covered  the  beautiful  face  for  an 
hour.  The  prince  stood  by  an  open  window,  alone 
in  the  room,  when  a  heavy  tramp  of  feet  upon  the 
stairs,  and  boisterous  rapping  upon  the  door  of  another 
room  of  the  consul's  apartment,  caused  him  to  open  a 
door  that  would  admit  him  to  the  room  thus  assailed. 
Then,  doubtful  if  it  were  anything  which  he  should 
know,  he  drew  the  door  partly  together  again,  but 
stood  there  still ;  for,  without  waiting  for  an  answer, 
he  saw  a  Turkish  officer  enter  the  room,  and  the  gen- 


THE    FULL    SUN    AT    EVENTIDE.  345 

eral  spring  from  his  chair  and  ask  fiercely,  "  Why 
this  intrusion  ?  " 

"  I  come  with  orders  to  arrest  the  man  in  Turkish 
dress  who  caused  a  riot  to-day  in  the  Church  of  the 
Holy  Sepulcher,  and  has  taken  refuge  here." 

"  He  caused  no  riot,"  said  the  general  sternly,  point- 
ing to  the  door. 

"  I  am  not  come  to  argue,"  the  Turk  replied,  sul- 
lenly. 

"  Then  go  !  "  exclaimed  the  general ;  "  for  ere  you 
touch  that  man,  the  point  must  be  well  argued." 

The  Turk  struck  the  floor  with  his  heel,  and  sev- 
eral soldiers  with  drawn  swords  entered  behind  him. 
General  Wolzonn  grasped  the  sword  which  the  prince 
had  removed  and  laid  upon  the  table. 

"Your  words  are  useless,"  said  the  Turk.  "The 
house  is  well  guarded.  I  come  peaceably,  but  if  re- 
sistance be  offered,  every  member  of  this  house  goes 
with  me  to  answer  for  defying  the  scepter  of  Mo- 
hammed." 

"  Not  one  until  my  life  is  taken,"  replied  the  gen- 
eral, planting  himself  in  a  position  of  defense. 

The  prince  thought  it  time  to  interfere.  He 
stepped  between  the  two.  "  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  I 
am  sorry  to  be  the  cause  of  this  dispute." 

"  My  lord  !  "  exclaimed  the  general,  endeavoring  to 
push  the  prince  one  side,  out  of  the  way  of  the  Turk- 
ish officer.  "The  Greeks,  Armenians,  Latins,  Copts, 
and  Syrians,  Christian  sects  worshiping  in  the  Church 
of  the  Holy  Sepulcher,  are  continually  rioting  and 
brawling  among  themselves,  till  more  blood  is  shed 
in  that  building  than  on  many  battle-fields.  The 
Mohammedans  own  the  church,  and  to  prevent  them 


346  CASTLE    FOAM. 

from  keeping  a  guard  of  Turkish  soldiers  tented 
under  the  roof,  the  church  authorities  agree  that 
whenever  a  riot  occurs  the  government  shall  arrest  a 
man,  no  matter  whether  innocent  or  guilty,  and 
demand  a  fine  equal  to  two  thousand  rubles." 

The  prince  replied  quietly,  "  The  law  seems  just, 
and  law  must  be  obeyed.  The  government  has  surely 
made  a  good  selection,  for  I  confess  that  in  my  haste 
I  did  most  rashly  that  which  stirred  up  the  riot." 
Then  turning  to  the  Turk,  he  added,  "  Sir,  I  will  go 
with  you.  May  I  have  any  time  to  prepare  myself?  " 

"What!"  exclaimed  the  general,  "to  spend  ten 
years  in  a  horrible  Turkish  dungeon?  My  lord 
prince,  you  do  not  go.  If  either,  it  is  I.  But  is  not 
Russia  strong  enough  to  protect  us  against  such  an 
outrage  ?  " 

"It  is  hardly  an  outrage,  friend  Wolzonn.  You 
forget  you  are  beyond  their  power.  They  cannot 
bind  a  Russian  official.  But  I,  my  dear  fellow,  I 
have  no  country."  A  tremor  told  how  deep  a  suf- 
fering those  little  words  expressed,  and  the  clear 
voice  was  husky  as  it  asked  the  Turk  again,  "  Sir, 
how  soon  must  I  be  ready  ?  " 

Another  officer  entered  the  room  and  exchanged  a 
few  words  in  their  native  tongue  with  the  one  already 
there,  handing  him  a  paper.  He  read  it  through, 
folded  it,  sheathed  his  sword,  and  bowing  as  politely 
as  a  Turk  can  bow  when  he  chooses  to  be  a  gentle- 
man, said,  "Sir,  or  my  lord,  if  I  may  congratulate 
you,  my  work  is  already  done.  I  am  officially  in- 
formed that  a  man  has  given  himself  over  and  paid 
the  fine,  and  that  the  scepter  of  Mohammed  is  satis- 
fied." 


THE    FULL    SUN    AT    EVENTIDE.  347 

He  had  reached  the  door  before  the  prince  could 
ask,  "  Does  your  information  state  who  such  a  strange 
man  may  be?" 

The  officer  was  all  politeness.  He  took  out  his 
paper  again  and  read :  "A  Russian  pilgrim  doing 
penance  in  the  church,  named  Heinrich  Charlovitz." 

"  Heinrich  Charlovitz  !  Yes,  I  thought  as  much," 
said  the  prince,  turning  to  General  Wolzonn.  "'Twas 
he  who  grasped  your  hand  by  the  altar.  So  be  it. 
He  has  repented.  A  genuine  penance  is  such  a 
sacrifice." 

The  soldiers  went  out.  The  prince,  worn  out  with 
the  long  day,  entered  the  chamber  of  death  again, 
and  threw  himself  upon  a  divan. 

Yes,  it  was  Heinrich  Charlovitz  !  Long  before, 
when  he  had  wrestled  all  night  with  the  Lord,  on  the 
frozen  hillside  above  Schaumburg,  before  he  dared 
give  the  customary  farewell  blessing  to  the  boy  Vic- 
tor, the  voice  from  heaven  that  seemed  to  speak  to 
him  had  said  :  "  You  did  this  wicked  thing,  thinking 
your  reward  would  be  the  chief  position,  in  the  chief 
sect  worshiping  at  the  Holy  Sepulcher.  Go  now, 
instead,  upon  a  pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem." 

In  parting,  Victor  had  made  him  a  present  of  two 
hundred  and  fifty  rubles.  He  had  counted  it  another 
sign  from  heaven,  and  had  never  gone  back  to  Schaum- 
burg, lest  the  sight  should  weaken  his  resolve.  He 
had  not  been  two  hours  in  Jaffa — he  had  not  even  left 
the  wharf — when  the  princess  and  Elise  approached. 
Faint-hearted,  homesick,  discouraged  he  thought  him- 
self, and  had  leaned  against  the  pillar,  wishing  —  as 
Elise  wished  to  her  mistress  a  moment  later  —  for  a 
little  plot  of  ground  large  enough  for  a  grave.  His 


348  CASTLE    FOAM. 

life  at  the  altar  had  been  one  of  simple  penance. 
He  had  not  come  to  be  honored  in  Jerusalem.  In  the 
first  six  months  his  money  had  been  nearly  all  ex- 
pended upon  the  board  of  the  two  at  the  hospice  ;  but 
he  began  to  extend  his  services  and  to  receive  pay,  and 
all  that  was  not  spent  upon  the  princess  was  hoarded 
up,  in  the  hope  that  he  might  some  day  send  them 
back  to  Russia  to  claim  their  own.  His  courage  failed 
when  they  sent  him  the  note  for  fifteen  hundred  rubles, 
but  he  had  laid  it  away  with  the  rest  till  he  should  be 
directed  how  to  use  it. 

He  was  performing  some  of  the  functions  of  a  priest 
at  the  altar  upon  this  New  Year's  Day.  He  easily 
recognized  the  Prince  von  Meerschaum  and  the  ap- 
proach of  the  officer,  and  was  ready,  when  the  mo- 
ment came,  to  intercept  the  blow.  He  eagerly  watched 
the  duel  and  the  restoration,  and  said,  "Thank  God! 
May  all  go  well  with  them  !  " 

The  united  body  of  priests  had  met,  (it  was  only 
upon  such  occasions  that  they  ever  were  united,)  and 
Heinrich  Charlovitz  met  with  them. 

"  Send  the  soldiers  for  the  man  in  Turkish  dress," 
said  they.  "  He  was  seen  to  enter  a  house  beyond 
the  Well-corner.  We  understand  he  is  a  prince,  and 
doubtless  has  the  money  required.  It  will  save  our 
paying  it." 

Heinrich  Charlovitz  waited  to  hear  no  more.  He 
folded  his  hands  over  the  same  old  Bible,  worn  and 
ragged  now,  and  whispered,  "  I  thank  thee,  Father, 
for  another  opportunity." 

He  took  the  money — he  saw  now  why  Providence 
had  willed  it  sent  to  him  —  and  with  it  paid  the  fine, 
gave  himself  over,  and  the  work  of  the  priests  was 


THE    FULL    SUN   AT    EVENTIDE.  340 

done.  They  instantly  became  five  distinct,  antagonistic 
elements,  and  the  hubbub  and  worship  and  blasphemy 
went  on  much  as  before,  and  as  it  always  has  gone 
on,  and  is  going  on  to-day.  Many  never  even  missed 
the  silent,  pale-faced  Charlovitz,  who  had  come  in  a 
moment  unbidden,  gone  in  a  moment  unfarewelled. 
But  little  did  Father  Charlovitz  care  for  that.  He 
had  not  come  to  Jerusalem  for  honor.  He  was  happy 
at  last  —  happier  than  he  had  been  before  since  the 
tempter  to  evil  had  spoken  to  him  under  the  naked 
branches  of  the  tree  by  the  little  church  at  Schaum- 
burg  ;  emancipated  by  the  shackles  that  hung  upon  his 
wrists  and  ankles,  and  the  gloomy  dungeon-walls  that 
frowned  on  him.  He  never  was  tempted  to  regret  the 
step,  but  he  looked  at  the  irons  and  the  walls,  and 
thought  of  how  he  had  once  entered  another  dungeon, 
and  in  the  pride  of  a  wicked  heart  had  said,  "  These 
are  the  hands  that  bound  those  shackles  there."  And 
the  regret  vanished.  He  was  ready  to  suffer. 

False  at  heart,  he  fell,  conquered;  but  tried  in  the 
fire,  he  rose  again,  and  conquered.  Bitter  fruit  the 
seeds  of  evil  brought  him ;  but  from  the  harvest  of 
suffering  he  went  out  again  with  weeping,  bearing 
precious  seed,  from  which,  sowing,  one  will  surely 
come  again  rejoicing,  having  reaped  an  abundant  har- 
vest. Who  can  tell  of  the  blackness  of  such  a  cloud 
.of  sin,  when  it  hangs  over  one,  but  he  who  has  seen 
it?  who  else  of  ecstasy,  when  the  clouds  break  away, 
and  through  them  pours  blessed  forgiveness,  like  the 
full  sun  at  eventide  ? 


35O  CASTLE   FOAM. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

THE   MILLS  OF  THE   GODS   HAVE  DONE  GRINDING. 

IN  the  quiet  moonlight,  just  before  the  next  day  was 
breaking,  the  priests  had  borne  away  the  body 
of  the  princess  with  those  beautiful  funefal  rites  of 
the  Greek  Catholics,  beyond  the  outer  wall,  and  laid 
it  restfully  beside  the  slumbering  Holy  City.  It  was 
all  over,  and  the  prince  was  lying  upon  a  divan,  when 
he  suddenly  became  aware  that  he  was  not  alone.  He 
opened  his  eyes,  but  looked  no  higher  than  the  dress 
to  know  that  it  was  the  woman  in  black  who  had  cared 
for  his  wife,  then  he  closed  them  again.  And  still  in 
a  soft,  strange  voice,  a  voice  that  seemed  the  burden 
of  a  sob  and  yet  a  smile,  she  said,  "This  is  the  Prince 
von  Meerschaum?" 

Mechanically  his  lips  answered  her,  "  I  was,"  be- 
fore his  weary  eyes  had  opened. 

"Victor  Reppoun,"  she  said,  "will  you  tell  me  if 
you  know  me  ?  " 

His  eyes  ran  up  from  the  black  skirt  to  the  white 
face,  from  which  the  veil  and  hat  had  been  removed. 
He  leaped  from  the  divan,  then  sat  slowly  down 
again.  What  a  conflict  was  waging  within  him  as 
he  answered,  "I  do  know  you,  Kathi  Chichkini." 

"  I  supposed  you  would  have  forgotten  me." 

He  shuddered.     "  It  could  not  be." 


THE    GODS'    MILLS    HAVE    DONE    GRINDING.       351 

"Ah !  I  vex  you  by  being  here,  but  I  did  not  come 
for  that.  The  past  should  be  forgotten  with  all  its 
pains  and  pleasures ;  the  present  alone  is  valuable,  if 
out  of  it  we  make  a  future  that  is  invaluable.  You 
said  that  once  to  me,  and  I  laid  it -very  much  to  heart. 
You  hate  me  without  cause.  I  am  not  come  to  ask 
your  love,  nor  would  you  give  it  if  I  pleaded  for 
it."  (The  prince  moved  as  though  he  even  yet 
doubted  himself.)  "Listen  to  me,  and  you  will  not 
regret  it.  In  the  fall,  after  you  were  hunting  by 
Arantha,  I  was  taken  away  from  the  miller,  given  in 
charge  of  an  artist  who  lived  outside  the  Roman  Gate 
at  Florence,  Signor  Giovanni,  you  saw  him  at  the 
lake,  and  told  to  become  his  wife.  Three  months  ago, 
Albrecht  von  Bremen,  of  Denmark,  fled  to  our  house, 
pursued  by  officers.  He  thought  they  would  take  his 
life.  He  spent  all  night  in  telling  me  a  strange  his- 
tory, and  giving  me  papers  and  proofs  of  what  he  said. 
He  is  imprisoned  in  Florence  now  for  twenty  years. 
My  husband  went  to  Petersburg  and  easily  obtained 
your  pardon,  and  this  letter  from  the  Tzar  and  Coun- 
cil begging  you  to  return.  But  he  died  before  reach- 
ing Florence  again.  Then  I  came  here  and  found 
your  wife.  I  did  it  simply  to  right  a  grievous  wrong, 
and  beg  you  to  accept,  as  such,  these  tokens." 

"  With  my  whole  heart,"  said  the  prince,  "  I  ask 
your  pardon  for  the  past,  and  thank  you  for  this 
present.  But  to  accept  your  kindness  and  go  back 
to  Russia,  ah  !  lady,  I  could  not  do  it,  though  all  the 
empire  did  lie  in  the  dust  and  beg." 

"  Ah,  my  lord,  don't  tell  me  that !  " 

The  prince  kneeled.  "Because  you  have  done 
this,  inspired  by  some  kindness  not  common  among 
men,  and  because  you  ask  it,  I  would  gladly  go,  as  I 


352  CASTLE    FOAM. 

would  more  gladly  give  you  my  life  as  thanks,  if  to 
sacrifice  it  might  serve  you,  or  if  such  a  mean  sacrifice 
might  recompense.  But,  lady,  you  will  crown  your 
generosity  if  you  will  accept  my  thanks  and  let  me 
stay  a  wanderer." 

"What !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  is  there  no  tie  of  friend- 
ship there?  No  fellowship?  No  fond  association  that 
one  might  plead  to  draw  you  back  again  ?  " 

"  Not  one  !  I  have  learned  to  be  a  wanderer ;  "  and 
yet  his  voice  trembled  as  he  said  it. 

"But  you  will  be  weary  of  this  wandering,"  she 
said,  "and  when  you  are,  remember  that  pardon  waits 
for  you  at  St.  Petersburg.  And  fear  not,  I  pray  you,  to 
take  refuge  in  my  little  home  outside  the  Roman  gate. 
The  princess,  your  mother,  whom  you  loved  so  dearly, 
was  a  Dane.  My  mother  was  a  Dane,  but  though  I 
never  knew  her  to  love,  I  have  at  least  loved  dearly 
that  ideal  mother  of  my  heart.  Let  this  be  a  bond  of 
friendship  between  us  that  shall  never  be  transgressed 
or  widened.  Promise  me  that  you  will  come.  There 
is  a  friend  of  yours  living  near  to  me,  whom  I  know 
you  would  be  glad  to  see." 

The  prince  rose,  and  taking  one  hand  in  his  and 
laying  his  other  hand  on  her  head,  after  the  fashion 
of  the  Polish  peasants,  said,  "May  God  reward  you, 
Kathi  Chichkini  Giovanni,  and  may  he  forgive  me ! 
I  am  not  worthy  to  enter  your  house.  I  am  not  worthy 
that  you  breathe  one  breath  for  me.  But  she  was  worthy 
for  whom  you  have  done  so  much ;  would  she  had 
lived  to  enjoy  your  kindness  !  " 

"  Victor  Reppoun,"  cried  Kathi  Chichkini,  "  you  do 
not  know  what  you  are  saying.  You  do  not  know 
what  you  are  doing,  if  you  refuse  me  this  promise. 


THE    GODS'    MILLS    HAVE    DONE    GRINDING.       353 

For  you  if  you  believe  that  I  have  done  anything, 
let  me  know  at  least  where  I  may  find  you,  if  a  matter 
of  importance  should  demand  it.  And  when  that  time 
comes,  you  shall  admit  that  I  have  not  asked  a  foolish 
thing." 

"  Kathi  Chichkini,  I  promise  you.  When  I  was 
able,  I  fortunately  spent  much  time  in  study.  Now 
it  enables  me  to  support  myself  in  writing  for  several 
French  and  English  publishers.  Here  is  the  card  of 
one  of  them.  They  always  know  as  well  as  I,  which 
is  not  very  well,  where  I  may  be  found.  Farewell." 

She  had  turned  to  leave  him. 

"Farewell,  Prince  Reppoun,"  she  said.  "You  will 
not  regret  it  if  you  come  to  Florence." 

Before  she  reached  the  door,  General  Wolzonn 
had  entered  and  stood  beside  it. 

"  Madame,"  said  he,  "  for  one  moment,  let  me  en- 
treat you,  stay.  My  lord  prince,  pardon  me.  This 
lady  did  not  close  the  door  when  she  entered. 
Through  the  crack  I  heard  you  say,  '  I  know  you, 
Kathi  Chichkini.'  Call  it  eavesdropping  if  you  will. 
I  have  listened  to  all  the  rest,  because  I  knew  it 
would  end  in  this  way ;  and,  Prince  Reppoun,  the 
lady  has  something  more  to  tell." 

"Friend  Wolzonn,  what  is  this  you  say?  Is  there 
still  another  mystery?  What  a  snarl  our  lives  are 
in  !  Kathi  Chichkini,  have  you  something  more  to 
tell?" 

"  I  do  not  understand  the  officer.  No,  there  is 
nothing,  Prince  von  Meerschaum.  There  is  not  an- 
other thing  to  tell.  Pray,  sir,  let  me  pass  you,  for  I 
will  go  out." 

Still  the  general  prevented  her. 
23 


354  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"  Nay,  only  a  moment,"  he  pleaded.  "  Prince  Rep- 
poun,  join  with  me." 

"I  tell  you,  sir,  I  have  nothing  more  to  say;  and  I 
will  go." 

"  Then,  lady,  I  shall  tell  it  after  you  are  gone,  and 
he  will  follow  you  before  you  are  out  of  sight,"  said 
the  officer,  as  he  stepped  one  side. 

She  waited,  saying,  "  Sir,  there  is  no  need  to  tell 
at  all.  If  you  have  politeness  toward  a  lady,  you 
will  hold  your  peace." 

"  Then  there  is  something,"  interposed  the  prince. 
"And  now,  lady,  my  curiosity  is  on  fire.  Is  it  some- 
thing that  I  should  not  know?  " 

She  made  no  answer  for  a  moment;  then  turning 
shortly  to  the  general,  said  in  that  sharp,  quick  tone 
that  seemed  to  the  prince  to  come  directly  out  of  the 
woods  by  Arantha,  "  Please,  sir,  say  what  }rou  have 
to  say  as  quickly  as  possible.  I  will  have  bravery 
and  listen,  if  you  are  a  coward  and  betray." 

"Friend  Wolzonn,"  said  the  prince,  "if  what  you 
would  say  will  cast  a  shadow  in  this  room,  then  I 
protest  I  will  not  hear  it." 

M  I  say  it,  my  lord,  because  it  will  bring  sunshine  ! 
But  first  I  will  ask,  with  hosts  of  others,  will  you  not 
go  back  to  Russia?  Think,  my  lord,  of  the  House 
of  Meerschaum." 

"You  know  already,"  said  the  prince,  "  that  to  sit 
upon  the  throne  I  would  not  go  back  to  Russia ! 
Three  months  in  a  dripping  dungeon  thrust  a  poisoned 
dart  in  here,  that  Meerschaum  has  no  balm  to  heal. 
Life  has  been  sweet  to  me  till  now,  for  there  were 
desires  in  life.  I  would  find  my  wife  before  I  died, 
and  be  forgiven.  I  would  see  Kathi  Chichkini,  and 


THE    GODS'    MILLS    HAVE    DONE    GRINDING.       355 

be  by  her  forgiven.  I  would  know  that  the  Dane, 
that  affluent  mischief-maker,  was  well  out  of  the  way 
of  making  any  mischief  for  my  boy.  I  would  see 
the  Russian  Tzar  and  Council  convinced  that  they 
were  wrong.  I  would  know  that  Father  Charlovitz 
had  repented  of  a  very  great  unfaithfulness  toward 
me  and  mine,  that  I  might  love  him  again  as  I  loved 
him  through  all  our  early  life  together.  And  last  of 
all,"  he  smiled,  "  I  would  wreak  a  little  vengeance  on 
my  old  friend  Wolzonn,  for  his  left-handed  courtesy 
down  by  the  pyramid,  and  then  convince  him,  if 
I  could,  that  revenge  was  not  required  of  him. 
During  this  present  day  all  these  desires  have  been 
fulfilled  with  an  astonishing  rapidity,  that  seems  to 
be  ominous  almost  that  my  days  of  life  are  done. 
At  all  events,  I  have  nothing  more  to  look  for  than 
to  live  as  God  would  have  me,  till  He  calls  me 
hence.  What  folly  for  me  to  run  after  a  princedom,  I, 
who  have  had  too  much  of  one  already  !  What  next, 
friend  Wolzonn?  This  was  an  untimely  interruption." 
"The  next,  my  lord,  is  a  confession.  When  I  was 
a  boy,  in  a  moment  of  passion,  I  struck  with  a  sword 
and  killed  a  nobleman.  The  only  one  who  knew 
of  it  was  Albrecht  von  Bremen.  You  pity  me. 
Yes,  I  was  to  be  pitied.  Five  years  went  by.  Then, 
to  keep  him  from  disclosing  the  murder,  I  allowed 
him  to  drive  me  to  become  a  party  to  carrying  off  the 
daughter  of  a  Russian  nobleman.  There  was  no 
search  made  for  her,  because  the  parents,  the  father 
at  least,  desired  it,  and  paid  the  Dane  well  for  doing 
the  work,  that  there  might  be  but  one  heir  to  the 
estate,  while  I  supported  the  girl  to  hide  the  murder. 
Now  I  have  confessed  enough  to  show  you  that  I 


356  CASTLE    FOAM. 

know  of  what  I  speak.  Beyond  this,  tell  me,  prince, 
did  you  ever  hear  of  Marie,  Marie  Reppoun,  in  all 
your  life  ?  " 

"Marie?  Yes.  Marie  Reppoun?  I  have  read  that 
name  many  a  time  on  a  tablet  in  the  little  church  at 
Schaumburg." 

"  But,  my  lord,  the  body  of  another-  child  was  laid 
there.  Marie  Reppoun  was  not  dead  !  She — sh — 
In  fact  she  stands  before  you  !  " 

The  general,  in  his  characteristically  blunt  way, 
having  leaped  upon  the  point  at  last,  after  taxing 
himself  to  the  utmost  to  perambulate  about  it,  suc- 
cumbed, and  crept  back  into  a  corner.  He  had  done 
his  duty,  and  there  were  certain  reasons  why  it  cost 
him  many  a  hard  struggle  before  he  nerved  himself 
to  begin,  and  finally  got  through  with  it.  The  prince 
caught  the  small  figure  in  his  arms.  "Kathi,  is  this 
true?  "  he  cried. 

"  It  is  true,  my  dear,  dear  brother,"  she  whispered, 
and  clung  about  his  neck  for  an  instant.  Then  push- 
ing herself  away,  she  said  rapidly,  "  But  it  does  not 
matter.  Let  me  go  now.  It  was  partly  because  it 
was  my  mother,  too,  whom  you  loved,  that  I  wanted 
you  to  come  to  Florence.  Now  you  will  come,  will 
you  not,  my  brother,  and  tell  me  all  about  her?  " 

In  her  anxiety  to  go  and  leave  the  matter  just 
where  it  was,  it  had  gone  already  much  further  than 
she  wished.  She  did  not  notice  that,  white  as  mar- 
ble, the  prince  had  staggered  backward,  and  was 
leaning  heavily  against  the  wall.  His  voice  faltered 
absently  as  he  replied,  w  Yes,  Kathi,  I  —  yes,  I  will 
go  to  Florence.  Wait !  "  He  pressed  his  hand  upon 
his  forehead  as  if  trying  to  solve  something  inexpli- 


THE    GODS     MILLS    HAVE    DONE    GRINDING.       357 

cable.  "  Wait  1 "  The  general  and  Kathi  both  started 
toward  him.  "  Kathi,  there  is  still  a  mystery.  You 
know  more  !  Tell  me  !  tell  me  !  I  —  no,  I  am  not  your 
brother ;  no,  Kathi,  no.  I  see  it  now  without  your 
telling  me.  It  comes  dimly  but  more  clearly  out  of 
mists  of  fraud.  The  Princess  von  Meerschaum  had 
but  one  child  ;  that  I  know.  They  told  me  I  was  the 
only  child  ;  that  Marie  was  adopted  ;  that  Marie  died. 
But  see  !  "  He  drew  the  medallion  from  where  it  still 
hung  about  his  neck,  and  looked  at  it  eagerly,  com- 
paring it  with  the  face  before  him,  while  Kathi  cast 
a  withering  glance  at  the  officer,  that  seemed  to 
say,  "I  told  you  so,"  and  the  general  began  to  wish 
he  had  listened  before.  Neither  had  thought  the 
prince  would  go  so  far.  "  There  is  her  hair,"  said  he, 
"  her  eyes,  her  cheeks,  her  mouth,  and  in  character  her 
nobility.  Lovely  Kathi  Chichkini,"  he  cried,  falling 
on  his  knees  again,  "you  are  her  child,  her  only 
child  !  and  I  —  I  —  I  must  have  been  adopted  !  And 
the  Dane  was  right,  and  the  priest.  Why  did  I 
not  listen?"  He  rose  slowly  to  his  feet.  "Great 
Heavens  !  I,  who  am  not  higher  than  a  pauper,  have 
lived  and  gloried  in  a  princedom,  while  for  that,  a 
princess,  who  from  my  position  I  did  not  dare  to 
stoop  to  marry,  has  worked  for  her  daily  bread  I 
What  an  anomaly!  'To  err  is  human,  to  forgive 
divine.'  I  have  been  human;  Marie  Reppoun,  can 
you  be  divine  ?  " 

She  had  almost  smothered  the  last  words  which 
she  would  not  hear,  clasping  him  again  about  the 
neck. 

"Here  is  her  medallion,"  he  continued ;  "take  it; 
you  will  love  it  as  I  have  loved  it.  There  has  not 


35  CASTLE    FOAM. 

been  an  hour  that  it  has  not  felt  my  heart  beat,  since 
the  time  she  gave  it  me."  He  turned  to  the  general. 
"Friend  Wolzonn,  take  up  this  case.  YOL  took 
her  away  from  a  princedom ;  it  is  but  just  that  you 
should  take  her  back  again.  Promise  me  that  you 
will  faithfully  see  Marie  Reppoun  established  in  Castle 
Foam  as  the  heir  of  Meerschaum  ! " 

The  general  knelt  with  one  hand  on  his  sword- 
scabbard.  With  the  other  he  crossed  himself,  and 
answered,  "My  lord,  I  swear  it." 

"  And,  by  the  way,"  added  the  prince,  "  let  me  com- 
mend to  you  good  Charlovitz.  He  should  be  ran- 
somed quickly,  and  if  you  see  fit  lo  reinstate  him  over 
the  little  church  in  Schaumburg,  you  will  find  a  sad- 
der, wiser,  and  better  man  for  the  past  failures  and 
sacrifices." 

A  shadow  crossed  the  face  of  the  man  who  had  so 
manfully  stood  to  duty,  though  it  made  the  prince  a 
pauper  in  the  hour  when  he  became  a  prince  again. 
He  would  not  have  it  known,  and,  with  a  hardly  forced 
smile,  walked  to  the  window.  The  new  princess 
was  not  less  quick  to  see  than  the  discerning  peasant 
girl.  She  silently  crossed  the  room,  and  clasped  his 
arm  that  rested  on  the  sash. 

"  Victor  Reppoun ,  did  you  think  I  would  do  it  ?  " 
she  whispered.  "You  are  brave;  you  are  noble. 
Remember  !  Kathi  Chichkini  says  that.  But  now 
you  are  thinking  of  your  boy ,  the  little  Prince  Victor. 
He  should  be  thought  of.  My  daughter  was  born  to 
earn  what  she  lived  upon.  Victor  was  born  to  be  a 
prince." 

The  prince  interrupted  her.  "  If  Victor  is  fit  to  be 
a  prince,  he  is  well  able  to  be  a  man.  The  pain  I 


THE    GODS'    MILLS    HAVE    DONE    GRINDING.       359 

suffered  was  not  because  I  feared  he  would  grumble 
at  his  lot.  A  braver  boy  I  never  knew.  He  will 
work  in  the  world  like  a  man,  and  will  thank  me  for 
telling  him  that  he  is  but  a  man,  as  I  should  have 
thanked  one  who  would  have  saved  me  from  occupy- 
ing another's  place  so  long.  But  how  do  you  know 
of  Victor?" 

"  I  know  him  well  and  love  him  well.  He  has 
lived  with  us  for  a  long  time.  It  was  to  see  him  that 
I  would  have  had  you  come  to  Florence." 

"  It  was  your  husband  under  whom  he  studied?  " 

"Yes." 

"  And  your  daughter  whose  face  he  painted  so  suc- 
cessfully ?  " 

"  It  was  my  little  Kathi." 

"  I  have  heard  about  it,"  said  the  prince.  Then  he 
was  silent  for  a  moment.  Suddenly  he  looked  down 
into  the  dark  eyes  that  were  raised  to  his  just  as  they 
had  been  at  Arantha. 

"The  girl  is  a  picture  of  the  mother,"  he  said 
slowly.  A  mother's  eyes  are  doubly  brilliant  when 
one  speaks  to  her  of  her  child. 

"  How  do  you  know  that?  "  she  asked,  with  the  old 
smile  from  Arantha. 

"  I  went  to  Florence  to  see  the  picture,"  he  said. 
"  I  heard  of  it  in  Egypt.  She  will  be  as  beautiful 
and  very  like  your  mother."  The  clear  voice  trem- 
bled. He  dared  not  trust  himself  to  speak  for  a 
moi/^/it,  then  he  asked,  "  Does  she  love  Victor  and 
he  love  her?" 

"Such  children  !  — twelve  and  thirteen  years  old  — 
to  love  !  "  she  said  ;  but  he  read  another  answer  in  her 
eyes. 


360  CASTLE    FOAM. 

"'Tis  well,"  said  he,  with  an  answering  smile. 
"  Let  Victor  be  a  man.  I  will  write  him  a  letter. 
No,  I  will  see  him  and  explain  it  all.  You  shal1  take 
Kathi  to  Meerschaum.  It  is  a  lovely  spot,  though 
full  of  gall  to  me.  Then,  when  the  time  shall  come, 
if  he  shall  wish  and  she  be  willing,  let  them  marry. 
God  bless  the  match  !" 

"And  now,  Kathi-Marie,"  he  added  softly,  putting 
his  strong  arm  about  her,  "you  are  coming  to  your 
own  in  spite  of  this  wicked  world  and  your  noble 
generosity.  The  justice  of  Heaven  would  have  it 
so.  You  have  lost  but  a  few  years  at  the  most, 
may  you  have  many,  many  more.  Nor  will  the  past 
be  altogether  lost  to  you,  for  the  lessons  of  the  peas- 
ant shall  give  wisdom  to  the  princess.  And  mind 
well,  Kathi,  you  could  not  find  it  in  the  royalty  of 
empires  to  give  you  one  heart-beat  of  the  satisfac- 
tion that  was  yours  when  you  left  me  by  the  lake 
at  Arantha." 

They  stood  thus,  silently,  for  a  long  time  in  the 
shadows  growing  darker  till  all  was  black  but  the 
twinkling  stars  above,  then  Kathi  slipped  from  his 
side,  only  pressing  a  kiss  upon  the  hand  that  she 
lifted  from  her  shoulder. 

He  was  alone,  sweeping  with  an  understanding, 
comprehensive  glance  the  mysterious  intricacies  of 
the  past,  each  day,  each  hour  burdened  with  the 
hand  of  God  and  man  in  conflict.  The  agony  he  had 
suffered,  the  prayer  he  had  prayed,  came  back  to  him. 
Slowly  he  repeated  it. 

Then  he  added,  "  At  last  I  understood  it  all,  and 
see  the  answrer  to  my  prayer." 


CASTLE    FOAM, 


PART    III> 

'Never  here,  forever  there. 
Where  all  parting,  pain  and  care, 
And  death  and  time  shall  disappear- 
Forever  there,  but  never  here." 


THE    END. 


THE    END. 

EVERY  thing  comes  to  an  end  except  a  circle.  We 
have  rambled  about  over  many  lands  together, 
following  fortunes  far  apart  from,  yet,  after  all,  very 
close  to  each  other,  and  it  is  full  time  that  this  ram- 
bling came  to  an  end.  Let  us  get  back  again,  if  we 
can,  to  the  place  from  which  we  started,  and  say  good- 
night. I  have  wearied  you  to  read,  and  for  you  I  have 
wearied  me  to  write.  An  even  exchange  is  no  robbery, 
and  the  clock  strikes  six.  Tea,  toast,  a  cigar  and  the 
newspaper,  doubtless  you  will  agree  with  me,  will 
be  much  more  to  the  point  than  another  hour  of  this. 

It  was  in  1856  that  I  was  hunting  up  in  North  India, 
with  the  party  described  in  the  first  chapter  of  this 
book.  Eighteen  hundred  and  fifty-six  !  Twenty-one 
years  after  the  events  that  closed  the  last  chapter.  To 
build  a  little  bridge  across  will  take  but  a  moment. 

Victor  Reppoun  went  to  Florence  and  saw  his  son 
for  the  first  time  since  the  melancholy  breaking  up  at 
Castle  Foam,  and  did  not  see  him  afterward,  for  sev- 
eral insurmountable  barriers.  The  boy  bore  the  news, 
as  the  father  had  predicted,  "like  a  man."  Upon 
the  day  that  he  was  twenty  he  received  as  a  birthday 
gift  the  sweetest  little  note,  from  the  sweetest  little 
girl  imaginable,  who,  according  to  the  wish  of  his 


364  CASTLE    FOAM. 

father,  he  had  not  seen  again  ;  saying  that  she  had  been 
true  to  the  little  love  promises  of  twelve  and  thirteen, 
and  that,  if  he  would  like,  her  mother  invited  him  to 
come,  as  he  had  promised,  to  Castle  Foam  for  the 
holidays.  And  that  same  mother  did  not  let  him  go 
away  again. 

The  estates  Von  Kramareff  were  forfeited  by  the 
countess,  and  of  course  fell  to  Constantine  Wolzonn. 
The  fact  that  this  must  result  from  the  disclosure  he 
had  obtained  from  Albrecht  von  Bremen  had  acted 
strongly,  with  other  objections,  to  keep  him  so  long 
from  declaring  it.  When  at  last  he  became  the  Count 
von  KramarefF,  he  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  him- 
self. He  walked  through  the  elegant  great  mansion 
like  a  sheep  upon  a  sand  hill.  He  thought  of  renting 
it,  but  that  would  not  do.  Once  upon  a  time  he  had 
grumbled  almost  to  cursing  his  luck  that  he  was  not 
born  noble.  Now  that  the  nobility  had  come,  he 
would  almost  have  asked  to  be  excused.  He  was  to 
be  found  at  the  mansion  from  bed-time  till  breakfast 
had  been  eaten,  no  longer.  The  servants  at  last  gave 
up  preparing  for  him  any  meal  but  breakfast,  and 
never  opened  a  room  of  the  house  but  they  were  told 
to  lock  it  up  again.  They  said  the  old  countess  had 
been  bad  enough  in  her  solemnity,  but  this  man  was 
intolerably  worse.  At  length,  one  day,  he  fell  to  talk- 
ing about  the  past  in  Frau  von  Ockel's  library  ;  moral- 
izing over  the  curious  meandering  of  affairs.  He  had 
been  silent  for  a  moment.  One  of  the  gloomy  shad- 
ows of  that  past  had  darkened  his  brow  into  a  stern 
frown,  when  the  frau,  with  one  of  her  merry  laughs 
that  made  every  one  about  her  happy,  stopped  directly 
in  front  of  him. 


THE    END.  365 

"Well,  well!"  she  said,  "if  you  are  not  the  very 
soberest  man  I  ever  saw  !  " 

"  I  was  thinking,"  he  replied  with  a  slight  laugh. 

"Possible?"  asked  the  lady  incredulously,  arching 
her  voice  and  her  eyebrows.  "  And  pray  what  could 
you  find  to  think  about  on  a  bright  day  like  this  ?  " 

"To  tell  the  truth,  I  was  thinking  how  insignificant 
I  have  always  been,  and  am  always  likely  to  be,  in  this 
fate-governed  world." 

"Those  are  pretty  long  words,"  she  replied;  "but 
did  I  not  tell  you  years  ago  that  the  world  would  not 
follow  the  beck  of  one  little  finger,  no  matter  how 
much  of  a  finger  it  might  be?" 

"But  you  did  not  tell  me,  lady,  that  it  would  pay  no 
attention  at  all." 

"Well,  well !  And  think  if  I  had  told  you  all  that 
at  once,  it  might  have  discouraged  you." 

The  frau  went  on  with  her  work.  She  was  mak- 
ing some  comfort  for  a  sick  woman,  and  the  fingers 
flew  as  though  they  were  used  to  such  occupations  and 
enjoyed  them.  There  was  silence  again  in  the  little 
room.  Born  of  the  silence,  a  new  idea  came  with  a 
leap  into  the  new  count's  head.  Strange,  marvelous- 
ly  strange,  he  had  never  thought  of  it  before ;  but  to 
this  day,  reader,  there  are  some  who  are  marvelously 
stupid  in  the  matter  of  new  ideas.  When  it  did  occur 
to  him,  however,  he  spoke  it  out  after  his  own  blunt 
fashion,  and  without  so  much  as  trying  to  preambu- 
late. 

Frau  von  Ockel  was  "taken  quite  aback,"  as  ladies 
say,  and  thoroughly  surprised,  no  doubt.  She  laughed. 
Blessed  ray  of  sunshine  !  Did  any  one  ever  know  of 
a  time  when  she  was  not  laughing  with  those  who 


366  CASTLE    FOAM. 

were  ready  to  laugh,  who  so  often  wept  with  those 
who  were  weeping? 

"  But  you  and  I  are  quite  too  old  for  such  fly-away 
nonsense,"  she  said. 

"  It  is  not  nonsense,"  said  the  new  count.  He  was 
actually  kneeling  before  her.  "I  know  that  my  hair 
is  more  white  than  brown,  but  my  heart  is  young  when 
you  are  about.  And  as  for  you,  God  knows,  lady,  you 
never  could  grow  old."  So  it  came  about  that  there 
was  a  Countess  von  KramarefF  again.  And  fortunate- 
ly the  countess  was  an  improvement,  if  that  could  be, 
upon  the  Frau  von  Ockel  whom  every  one  loved. 

Thus  matters  stood  at  St.  Petersburg  when  we  went 
hunting  in  India  in  1856.  For  five  days,  shooting  by 
the  way,  we  rode  northward  ;  past  herds  of  the  silver- 
hoofed  gazelle  in  the  jungle,  and  stork  and  flamingo 
in  the  marshes.  Cool  blew  the  breeze  from  the  high- 
lands to  the  north  of  us,  as  on  the  sixth  morning  we 
mounted  our  horses.  We  had  reached  the  hunting- 
ground  for  the  famous  black  buck,  and  a  royal  day 
the  snow-crowned  hunter  promised  us.  As  it  wore  on, 
the  old  man  grew  excited  in  the  chase.  He  stripped 
off  his  Hindoo  robe,  and  bare  to  the  waist,  his  broad 
shoulders  burned  almost  as  brown  as  his  face,  con- 
trasting strangely  with  his  long  white  hair  and  snow- 
white  beard,  on  his  black  charger  white  with  foam, 
he  certainly  appeared  reveling  in  his  native  element. 

A  drove  had  run  to  cover  in  a  deep  jungle  to  all 
appearance  impenetrable.  Tall  palms,  like  sentinels 
about  the  outer  edge,  waved  gracefully  their  loaded 
heads,  seeming  to  say,  ''Thus  far  and  no  farther  ; "  while 
vines,  trailing  from  trunk  to  trunk  and  through  the 
thick  undergrowth,  substantiated  the  opposition.  But 


THE    END.  367 

the  drove  had  entered,  and  the  coolies  must  follow ; 
while  we  formed  a  half  circle  at  a  little  distance  from 
the  jungle. 

"There  is  handsome  game  in  the  jungle,"  said  the 
hunter,  and  he  was  right. 

He  grew  impatient  before  the  coolies  had  been  as 
long  as  usual  in  the  shelter.  "The  lazy  fellows !"  he 
exclaimed  ;  "  they  stop  to  lunch  on  plantains  the  mo- 
ment they  are  out  of  sight.  Wait  a  bit,  friends,  and 
I  will  do  their  work  for  them." 

He  dashed  the  rowels  into  the  black  sides,  and  the 
horse  with  a  leap  crushed  his  way  into  the  under- 
growth. 

There  was  a  dead  silence  for  a  moment.  No  ordi- 
nary sound  from  within  ever  comes  out  of  one  of  these 
jungles,  and  even  the  deep  breathing  of  the  horses 
seemed  subdued  in  the  strange  silence  outside.  I  fan- 
cied a  chill,  foreboding  evil,  ran  round  our  little  semi- 
circle;  a  dread  presentiment.  Was  it  possible? 

That  silence  was  broken  by  a  terrific  roar  that  shook 
the  earth  and  seemed  almost  to  rend  the  very  sky. 
An  instant,  and  the  sharp  whinny  of  a  horse  in  pain 
mingled  with  a  human  cry  burst  upon  our  ears,  as  the 
huge  Arabian  black  sprang  from  the  jungle  like  an 
antelope.  Two  riders  were  upon  his  back.  One  was 
the  white-bearded  hunter,  hugging  with  one  hand  his 
horse's  neck.  The  other  rider  was  a  royal  Bengal 
tiger.  With  bound  after  bound  the  animal  tore  past 
us,  but  his  double  burden  fell  heavily  directly  at  our 
feet. 

I  sat  upon  my  horse  momentarily  paralyzed  by  the 
shock.  Next  me  sat  the  man  to  whom  I  devoted  much, 
of  the  first  chapter.  The  hunter  fell  between  u«  j  the 


368  CASTLE    FOAM. 

tiger  still  above  him.  His  turban  had  fallen  off  ;  his 
face  was  buried  in  the  thick  fur.  But  from  high  on 
his  bold  forehead,  down  the  left  temple,  and  lost 
again  in  his  heavy  beard,  a  broad  white  scar  was 
plainly  seamed  against  the  bronze  skin. 

"  MY  FATHER  ! "  cried  the  one  beside  me,  and  be- 
fore another  man  could  move  he  had  leaped  from  his 
horse,  and  pressed  to  the  hilt  his  hunting-knife  into 
the  tiger's  throat.  Loosing  his  hold,  with  one  wild 
howl,  the  tiger  rolled  over  and  lay  dead.  But  death 
had  not  come  from  the  last  blade,  for  fastened  in  the 
hunter's  hand,  in  a  grasp  we  were  unable  to  loose, 
was  his  own  long  hunting-knife  dripping  with  blood. 
He  himself  had  killed  the  tiger,  but  the  enormous 
weight  falling  upon  him  from  the  horse  had  returned 
a  death  vengeance. 

Breathlessly  we  stood  about  him,  applying  what 
we  could  of  restoratives,  while  the  coolies  hurried  for 
the  tent.  At  last  his  eyes  opened.  They  fell  upon 
the  one  who  was  naturally  kneeling  nearest  him. 
They  smiled.  The  eyes  smiled.  "Victor,  my  boy  !" 
said  he. 

He  had  known  him  !  What  a  strange  power  of  the 
will  that  should  keep  that  knowledge  till  he  chose. 

The  shadows  gathered.  We  made  a  bed  for  him 
where  he  lay,  and  placed  a  tent  over  him.  The 
coolies  on  unsandaled  feet  brought  in  the  cup  of  oil 
and  lit  the  floating  wick.  Having  done  all  that  could 
be  done,  we  left  the  tent  and  our  stranger-friend  with 
the  dying  prince. 

I  had  scarcely  entered  my  own  tent  when  a  hand 
was  laid  upon  my  shoulder.  It  was  the  hand  of 
Victor  Reppoun. 


THE    END.  369 

"Will  you  be  a  friend  in  need,"  said  he,  "  and  watch 
with  me  to-night?" 

On  a  camp-chair  in  the  door  of  his  tent  I  sat  the 
long  night  through,  facing  the  darkness  and  the  broad 
plain,  dotted  with  its  blacker  jungles  ;  sat  and  listened, 
there  was  no  choice,  to  the  exchange  of  strange  stories, 
and  the  history  of  a  life. 

I  listened  so  intently,  so  spellbound,  that  if  I  heard, 
it  aroused  no  curiosity  when  early  in  the  evening  a 
rustling  in  the  dry  grass  betrayed  a  presence  near  me, 
and  the  moonlight  shone  upon  the  figure  of  a  man 
crouching  outside  the  tent,  his  face  pressed  against 
the  canvas.  It  was  one  of  our  hunting  party.  I  did 
not  even  ask  myself  which  one.  Together  we  watched 
and  waited  till  the  night  .was  dying  in  the  west,  and 
day  awaking  in  the  east.  Then  I  noted  that  he  softly 
crept  away  ;  and  heard  him  repeat  that  word  so  com- 
mon in  Florence  as  he  went,  "Ecco  Mio"  That  was  all. 

Death-silence  reigned.  I  turned.  The  young  prince 
knelt  beside  the  lifeless  body  of  his  father.  He  un- 
clasped a  crucifix  that  lay  upon  his  breast,  and  kissing 
it,  repeated  the  formula,  "My  God  hath  willed  it  so, 
and  His  great  will  be  done."  Then  he  hung  it  about 
his  own  neck,  kissed  the  cold  forehead,  covered  the 
face,  and  went  out  alone  toward  the  rising  sun. 

No  one  saw  him  again  till  at  night,  when  the  coolies 
digged  a  grave,  and  we  gathered  about  it.  He  was 
there.  No  priest  nor  bishop  of  any  creed,  nor  con- 
secrated ground  had  we,  but  we  bowed  our  heads 
and  silently  buried  him,  with  the  black  jungle  for  his 
monument.  Wrapped  in  his  Eastern  robes  and  tur- 
ban, he  rested  quietly  after  the  swift  vicissitudes  of 
three-score  years  and  four.  Softly  and  solemnly  the 


370  CASTLE    FOAM. 

wind  wailed  the  funeral  dirge  as  we  threw  the  earth 
back  again  over  the  uncoffined  corpse,  giving  the 
ashes  to  ashes  and  the  dust  to  dust.  Five  of  us 
mourners  were  human,  and  one,  more  bereft  than  any, 
a  chief  mourner,  without  a  motion  save  each  long- 
drawn  breath,  with  head  stretched  pleading  forward, 
the  coal-black  Arab,  who  loved  him  as  Black  Auster 
loved  his  Roman  master.  When  the  work  was  done, 
and  the  last  clod  replaced,  the  moonlight  floated  softly, 
silvery,  over  the  plain  from  the  far  horizon,  and  lin- 
gered on  the  mound  as  we  stood  in  a  silent  circle 
about  it,  the  great  black  head  thrust  over  our  shoul- 
ders, waiting  — waiting  for  the  minister  to  say  "Amen." 

Suddenly  the  horse  gave  a  piercing  cry,  and  turning 
away,  left  us  all  forever.  We  sought  in  vain  for  him 
afterward. 

And  still  we  stood  about  the  mound.  Was  not  the 
service  ended?  Not  quite. 

Some  one  moved.  Instinctively  I  felt  that  it  was  he 
of  our  party  who  had  lain  outside  the  tent  all  night. 

Slowly  he  stepped  into  the  midst  of  the  circle  and 
knelt  upon  the  mound,  muttering,  "Ecco  Mio?  as  he 
touched  the  earth.  He  lifted  a  wan,  haggard  face, 
not  to  any  of  us  about  him,  but  to  something  beyond 
that  which  our  eyes  saw,  and  exclaimed  with  muffled 
eagerness :  "  Oh,  everlasting  almost,  end  here  in 
one  success !  I  have  sown  the  wind,  and  reaped  the 
whirlwind.  I  have  fought  without  conquering.  This 
is  the  only  sacrifice  that  it  is  left  for  Albrecht  von  Bre- 
men to  offer  to  one  whom  he  worse  than  murdered. 
Here  where  our  bodies  do  almost  meet,  farewell  for- 
ever, Prince  Victor  von  Meerschaum  !  "  The  moon 
fell  full  on  his  upturned  face,  the  silver  in  his  hair 


THE    END.  3^! 

caught  the  soft  light  and  held  it  upon  his  uncovered 
head,  his  eyes  shone  as  if  looking  at  victory.  It  was 
a  savage  victory  —  it  was  a  dagger  that  gleamed  in 
his  hand,  and  fell  like  lightning  buried  in  his  breast. 

There  they  lie,  together.  Lost !  forgotten  !  And 
what's  in  a  life  and  a  name,  and  a  history  now,  be 
it  better  or  worse,  murdered  or  murderer,  to  the  Prince 
von  Meerschaum,  or  the  Dane  von  Bremen,  all  alone 
in  that  wild,  forsaken  plain  in  India? 

Nothing  indeed  !  nothing,  if  they  are  always  to  lie 
there.  But  if  by  chance  Count  Olendorff  were  right, 
and  there  come  another  reaping-time,  at  which  from  a 
name  and  a  life  and  a  history,  they,  and  you  and  I 
in  the  same  fashion,  must  reap  another  harvest,  upon 
the  quality  of  which,  be  it  good  or  bad,  we  must  sub- 
sist forever  and  ever,  then  it  becomes  of  importance 
to  them,  after  all,  and  will  not  be  lost  and  forgotten, 
but  laid  away  somewhere  to  witness  in  that  day  — 
what?  And  I  cannot  help  repeating  that  text  so  mys- 
teriously and  appropriately  given,  before  the  sermon 
was  preached  to  me,  as  I  sit  of  a  cool  evening  watch- 
ing, in  the  fire,  figure  after  figure  playing  a  part,  and 
thinking  of  the  two  lives,  so  different,  so  imperfect,  un- 
justified, and  uncondemned,  yet  punished  and  rewarded, 
working  so  untiringly  against  each  other,  yet  in  the 
end  bringing  about,  in  spite  of  their  intentions,  precise- 
ly the  same  result.  There  is  something  deeper  than 
chance  in  it  all.  There  is  something  surer  than  luck. 
There  must  be  a  Ruler  in  the  incomprehensible  Infinite, 
transcending  our  knowledge,  who  "  helpeth  them  to 
right  that  suffer  wrong,"  who  "  feedeth  the  hungry," 
who  "  helpeth  them  that  are  fallen,  and  as  for  the  way 
of  the  ungodly  (who)  turneth  it  upside  down." 


•Mill 

A     000027737    6 


